An Unlikely Alliance
by krissh
Summary: She had to admit, his behavior was strange, but she did not have time to analyze the bizarre antics of Draco Malfoy. She had to get out of the castle, and fast. With complete disregard of her uneasy feelings, Hermione marched passed Malfoy and made her way down the corridor. To her utter amazement, he followed.
1. Darkness Prevails

**The dark side has just prevailed and the defenders of Hogwarts are faced with a choice: Convert, Fight, or Flee. Hermione Granger, knowing that she must avenge Harry's death, decides to flee. Along her escape route she runs into Draco Malfoy who will prove to be her most unlikely ally.**

Silence had fallen over the grounds of Hogwarts.

Ever since Voldemort had called back his Death Eaters, the patrons of the school had been busy collecting the bodies of the fallen and transporting them to the Great Hall. Uncertain of what should be done with the bodies of dead Death Eaters, considering that no one had come to claim them and it did not look as though anyone ever would, Headmistress McGonagall decided it was tacky to simply leave them lying where they fell. It was also tasteless to have them laying next to the fallen defenders of Hogwarts. It was for these reasons that she assigned Professor Flitwick and Professor Wood to levitating the bodies to a nice space of grass near the lake until something else could be done with them.

The castle had sustained substantial damage; Walls and staircases had been blasted to bits and large chunks of rubble littered the corridors. The foyer itself was almost unrecognizable: the glass chandelier had shattered into thousands of glittering shards, and a broken column blocked half of the room from use. The stone giants that Headmistress McGonagall had brought to life knelt motionlessly in front of the entrance like silent protectors, but could be brought back to life at any moment should the need arise.

Hermione made her way through the Great Hall glancing over the lifeless bodies that lined the floor. She was hugging herself, half hoping that she would keep herself from falling apart then and there, and half hoping she would feel some kind of comfort. However, there was no comfort to be found anywhere in the castle at that moment. Voldemort's followers had blasted through Hogwarts' defenses easily, and lining either side of the Great Hall was the proof. _So many, _Hermione thought.

She paused for a moment at the feet of Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks. She felt a tug at her heart as she gazed over their lifeless faces. They could have been sleeping... but Hermione knew it was a sick and cruel joke to imagine them sleeping. They were gone, just like all the other fallen soldiers, never to speak or laugh or do anything ever again.

The finality of death overcame Hermione. How was it that one minute someone could be... and then another they could cease to be? Shaking her head and the deep, sorrowful thoughts from her mind, Hermione continued down the hall where she found the weeping Weasley family.

She stifled a gasp as she recognized Fred Weasley lying in the midst of red haired figures. Molly Weasley was on her knees cradling his head in her lap. Ginny's face was buried in her father's chest as she sobbed uncontrollably. Hermione approached cautiously, not wanting to invade their space, but not knowing where else she could go at the moment. She just knew she did not want to be alone, and Harry was no where to be found. She wanted Ron.. she wanted Ginny.. she wanted anybody who could comfort her and give her a sense of normalcy.

Ron sensed Hermione's presence without looking over at her, and draped an arm around her shoulders. His face was tear streaked, eyes swollen and red. Hermione leaned into his chest, grateful for the closeness, but not eager to say anything. She didn't want to upset him any more than he already was. Besides, she didn't mind the silence. A hug was more comforting than words any day.

And where was Harry? Surely he would have found them by now.

Hermione stood there with the Weasley family for a long while, watching as everyone took their turn to say goodbye to their fallen warrior. Hermione couldn't help but wipe her eyes as Charlie doubled over his brother, holding onto the body for dear life. It was difficult to watch a big, strong man such as Charlie break down and cry without any restraints. He sobbed into Fred's unmoving chest for several minutes until all of his energy had dissipated. He then sat back on his heels and stared at his brother's body in silence.

Finally, Hermione could not stand it any longer. She squeezed Ron's hand once before sliding out from under his arm and slipping away from the Weasley scene. She had no idea where she was headed, but she had to leave. _Air_. She needed air.

Unable to look at any more of the dead, Hermione walked with her gaze fixed on the entrance to the Great Hall. She passed through the foyer and stepped out into the courtyard, squeezing her way between two of the stone giants. The cool air was relieving as it swept over her; She inhaled deeply and took a seat on a large chunk of stone that she imagined had been blasted off one of the towers.

Hermione pulled her beaded bag off from around her neck and flipped it over in her hand. She silently considered everything that was still concealed within it; she had extra clothes for herself, as well as for Harry and Ron, several books, some food she had nicked from Aberforth's house, and some basic potions. She frowned. There was nothing in her bag that could take her mind off the terrible scene that had unfolded moments before. Instead of placing it on her neck again, she clutched it in her fist.

She was not alone. It seemed that a few others shared her desire to get away from the depressing atmosphere back in the Great Hall. A couple sat, heads leaning together, on the opposite side of the courtyard and a young man (Hermione wasn't sure who) was slowly making his way around the perimeter of the area, kicking small bits of rubble out of his way as he went.

And then, out of no where, Hermione heard a voice. She looked up quickly just in time to see Professor Wood sprinting toward the castle. He was calling over and over again as he ran, but Hermione could not make out what he was saying.

"They're coming!" she heard when he was finally within earshot. "The Death Eaters are coming!"

Hermione's heart fell and she slowly got to her feet. Professor Wood streaked passed her toward the Great Hall to alert the Headmistress, and she shakily drew her wand. She strained her gaze on the horizon, searching for any sign of the Death Eaters. It had been a foolish notion to believe the fighting was over when Voldemort called back his followers... Foolish indeed. Once they realized Harry would never turn himself over, surely they would return for more slaughter.

It was several moments before she saw them. At first they merely formed a black line that dissolved into view on the horizon, but with every passing minute they grew closer and more visible. They marched along slowly, lead by a pale, bald leader and a large half giant that Hermione knew to be Hagrid.

Professor Wood returned to the courtyard, accompanied by Headmistress McGonagall and several others. Hermione heard the footsteps creeping up behind her, but could not make herself turn around; Her eyes were fixed straight ahead on the approaching crowd. Her gaze landed on Hagrid and she realized that he was carrying something in his arms... _No. _It was some_one_.

"Who is that Hagrid's carrying?" Hermione heard Neville's voice behind her.

Hermione squinted her eyes; It was difficult for her to see in the blinding light of the day.

"I can't tell yet," Hermione whispered absentmindedly.

The crowd was less than one hundred meters away. Hermione could make out Nagini's form slithering around Voldemort's feet and her heart jumped suddenly. Nagini was the last Horcrux. If only she could get close enough... but even then, she had nothing to kill it with. She returned her gaze to the figure in Hagrid's arms.

It was clearly a male, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. He had short, dark hair that blended in with Hagrid's coat and a pair of glasses that were sliding off his face. Hermione realized only a split second before Voldemort spoke who it was in Hagrid's arms, and her mouth fell open in a silent scream.

"HARRY POTTER... IS DEAD!" Voldemort announced proudly, a twisted smile making its way across his face.

"NO!" Ginny's scream echoed over the crowd as she darted forward. Arthur sprang after her, grabbing her by the shoulders and restraining her. He would not let her be killed as well.

"Let.. me.. go!" she cried between sobs.

Arthur wrestled with his daughter and whispered sharply in her ear, "There's nothing you can do!"

"Foolish girl!" Voldemort cried with a wide sweep of his hand. "Harry Potter _is_ dead."

Ginny glanced back at Hagrid's form and the lifeless corpse he carried in his arms. She blinked hard, forcing the tears in her eyes to fall down her face, and was able to make out the glasses perched on the figure's face. There was no doubt about it; It was Harry Potter in Hagrid's arms.

"Your hero, your Chosen One fell at the hand of Lord Voldemort whilst trying to save himself," Voldemort continued, stepping even farther into the courtyard. "What a pity... so many of you gave your lives for him, when all he wanted was to save himself."

The courtyard erupted immediately; cries of despair rang out from the defenders of Hogwarts, while the death eaters laughed and celebrated in their victory.

"NO! HARRY! NOT HARRY!" cried a chorus of voices.

"SILENCE!" Voldemort cried and silence quickly fell over the crowd. "Your Chosen One was nothing more than a delusional boy whose reputation far exceeded him. Harry Potter did not care about any of you!

But I, Lord Voldemort, do care! The time has come for you to join me... JOIN ME!"

No one spoke. No one moved... except for Hermione. She slowly took a step backwards, away from Voldemort and the Death Eaters. And then she took another. As Voldemort continued to beckon at the crowd, Hermione slowly made her way toward the castle entrance, never once lowering her wand. From the moment she had seen Harry's lifeless body, she had known what was coming. Voldemort would expect everyone to convert.

Everyone, that is, of pureblood status. The half bloods might get away with being slaves, or something of an equally degrading nature, but the muggleborns would surely be killed. She could not stay, even though she would have been happy to remain and fight. She had a plan, and most of that plan involved not dying. The other part of her plan involved ensuring that the final horcrux and Voldemort were both destroyed. There were only three people who knew about the horcruxes, and now one of them was dead. If Hermione and Ron died, however valiantly, it was possible that no one would be able to defeat Voldemort.

"We will never join you!" a voice cried.

"And who do we have here?" Voldemort questioned curiously.

Hermione watched in horror as Neville Longbottom stepped forward. "Neville," he answered. "Neville Longbottom."

"And what would your blood status be?"

Neville stuttered. "P-pureblood."

Voldemort smiled and extended his arms widely. "You have no reason to worry then, boy. You will make an excellent Death Eater."

"Like hell I will!" Neville yelled and raised his wand. "I'd rather die."

Voldemort sighed. "Such a waste. Let it be known to all that Lord Voldemort is a merciful ruler and he does grant last wishes. AVADA KEDAVRA!"

There were several horrified screams as a jet of green light shot out of the end of Voldemort's wand and hit Neville square in the chest. He crumpled to the ground and did not move again.

Hermione felt like she was going to be sick. She quickened her pace, not caring now if she drew attention to herself, and slipped into the castle. She turned on her heel just as an explosion of magic and angry voices erupted outside. As she sprinted down the corridor, she was not surprised to find that many people had the same idea. After all, it wasn't like they had much of a choice: Convert, die, or flee.

For Hermione, there wasn't an option. She had to survive, and she would. She had to avenge Harry and destroy Voldemort, and she would.

At least, that was the plan she was formulating as she ran.

Hermione stifled a scream as a jet of red magic shot passed her head and collided against the stone wall. She turned on her heal, wand raised as a black-cloaked Death Eater made their way down the corridor towards her.

"Petrificus totalus!" Hermione screamed. Her spell hit the Death Eater square in the chest and he fell over with a sickening 'thud' onto the marble floor.

Without hesitation, Hermione turned away and broke into a sprint once more.

The escape route she had planned was simple: Make it to the west exit of the castle, follow the trail passed Hagrid's hut into the Forbidden Forest, and make it outside Hogwarts' wards so that she could disapparate. In her head it sounded so simple and so flawless... she should have known something was bound to go wrong.

She rounded a corner, sliding on the marble floor, and slammed into someone. She lost her footing, and was exceedingly grateful when the person steadied her. Grateful, that is, until she realized who stood before her.

The man before her was tall and lean, dressed in a black dress shirt and slacks. His unmistakeable blonde hair was hanging messily over his eyes and his mouth was hanging open unattractively. There was a look on his face that Hermione had only seen twice... the first time was when she punched him in face third year and the second was when Harry had rescued him from the Fiendfyre earlier that day. He looked terrified.

Hermione scowled. "Out of my way Malfoy."

"You can't run," he said coolly. "They will find you. And when they do, they will kill you."

Hermione was furious. "Thanks, Malfoy. As if I didn't know that. Now if you're done wasting my time, get the hell out of my way."

She made to pass him, but he moved to block her path.

"Why even bother running when you know there's no chance of you making it out of here?" he asked in the same, cool voice as before.

Hermione furrowed her brow and raised her wand to point it at his chest. "Get out of my way, Malfoy, or I'll remove you from it."

He cocked an eyebrow. "You didn't answer my question."

Hermione huffed, bringing a hand up to massage her temples. She was losing her patience, and didn't have time to waste arguing with Draco Malfoy of all people.

"Because, I know I _will _make it out of here... if you would be so kind as to get the bloody hell out of my way," Hermione growled through her teeth. "If I had no chance of making it out, I would have stayed to fight."

Draco considered this. "And how do you plan on getting out?"

Hermione's face was flustered. "Why do you want to know? Interested in getting yourself out, Malfoy?"

When he did not respond immediately, Hermione guessed that her presumption was correct.

"You've got to be kidding me," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Is it that hard to believe, mudblood?" Malfoy spat.

"Yes, actually. What happened? Do you feel bad that the man who saved your life... more than once, I might add... died at the hands of your precious Dark Lord? Or did you finally realize that Voldemort's idea of a perfect wizarding world isn't everything you expected it would be?" Hermione yelled, all of her anger and frustration pouring out of her.

Draco did not answer. He seemed unable to. It might have been that Hermione surprised him with her sudden outburst of anger. Or it might have been that even _he_ did not know his reasoning for wishing to leave.

When he did not answer, Hermione pressed on. "If you would please make up your mind or let me by before we both die, it would be greatly appreciated."

Reluctantly, Malfoy stepped aside to let her pass. "Lead the way, mudblood."

She watched curiously for a moment, unsure of whether she should pass. He could easily hex her... or kill her... from behind and she would have no way to defend herself. She had to admit, his behavior was strange, but she did not have time to analyze the bizarre antics of Draco Malfoy. She had to get out of the castle, and fast. With complete disregard of her uneasy feelings, Hermione marched passed Malfoy and made her way down the corridor.

To her utter amazement, he followed.


	2. An Ally

They walked quickly down corridor after corridor, both with their wands drawn and ready for an attack. They could hear the fighting, even though they were several stories up, and Hermione knew they would run into trouble eventually. However, what she was more worried about at the moment, was her companion's intentions. Why the hell would Draco Malfoy want to escape with her, even if it was freedom that he sought? Surely he would prefer to go it alone than to be in the presence of a muggleborn.

"So what's the plan?" Draco finally said, breaking the silence.

Hermione, who was still considering what ulterior motives Draco Malfoy could have, frowned.

"Escape," she said flatly.

"Great plan," he retorted. "How exactly do you plan to do that?"

Hermione was losing her patience. "Find an exit. Now shut up and let me think."

She had unintentionally slowed her pace, and was now hardly moving at all. Draco obliged and was quiet for a long moment, but seeing the frown return to Hermione's face, decided to speak up once more.

"You can't get out the front entrance to the castle because that's where we just came from," Draco spat. "And all the secret passages were sealed off by Snape."

"The Room of Requirement," Hermione said quickly. "Dumbledore's Army has been using it to get in and out of Hogsmeade. We can take the passage back to Aberforth's and then..."

Draco shook his head sternly. "You obviously don't know that much about Fiendfyre. I seriously doubt the Room of Requirement will work now, and you'd waste a lot of time going all the way there just to find out it's a dead end."

Hermione huffed. As much as she hated to admit it, Draco was probably right. "The East exit heading to the Green Houses then. We can run along the border of the forest to Hagrid's hut and then..."

Draco shook his head again. "I don't know if you're aware, but you just led us up four floors of the castle. Why the hell would you want to go all the way to the first floor? I thought we were running _away_ from the fight?"

Hermione face was blotchy and her eyes burned with rage. "IF YOU HAVE A BLOODY BETTER PLAN, SPIT IT OUT ALREADY!" she growled.

Draco glared at her. "I would watch how you talk to me, you filthy mudblood. I can just as easily kill you, or turn you in."

"Do you think I haven't thought of that?" Hermione asked, inching her way toward Malfoy. "I don't know what you're playing at, but you haven't killed me yet, and I don't think you'd have it in you anyway. If you wanted to turn me in, you would have jumped at my plan to head toward the greenhouses."

The anger in Draco's expression suggested that if she pushed much more, he would probably hit her, so Hermione reluctantly backed away. She stared at him for a long time, her eyes burning into his, and was surprised that he did not break eye contact when he answered.

"I want to get out," Draco spat. "But since you're too focused on me and my intentions to form a damned plan, I'll enlighten you a bit. I could have escaped by myself, but if I was caught, I would be tried as a traitor and surely executed. Voldemort doesn't take kindly to traitors. However, if I'm caught with you, I will use you as my alibi. I will say that I went after you to turn you in. At least, that way, I can't be viewed as a rebel. Understand?"

Draco's words were cold as ice, and Hermione felt a chill run down her spine. He was just using her as a cover in case they were caught. If she took him at his word, he wasn't planning on killing her or turning her in. But could she possibly trust him?

"So," Hermione started slowly. "If we get out alive, that's the end of it. You won't turn me in? Or kill me?"

Draco shook his head. "I have no intention to kill you, as much as I'd like to. And, like I said, I'll only turn you in if we're caught."

Hermione nodded her head silently. She had, at least for as long as it took them to escape, an ally. Feeling that it was the right thing to do, Hermione thrust her hand out in front of her and stared daringly at Draco.

"Shake on it," she demanded.

Draco's lip curled upward in distaste as he glared at Hermione's outstretched hand. It was bad enough that he was having to work with her, but to touch her... the thought was almost enough to make him change his mind about escaping. He would rather be Voldemort's minion that shake the hand of a filthy mudblood... wouldn't he?

After a final second of indecision, Draco reached forward and grasped Hermione's hand with his own, squeezing hard. If he had intended to inflict pain, he was disappointed, because Hermione's serious look never wavered. As quickly as he grabbed her hand, he let it go and wiped his hand on his robes as though to wipe off dirt or germs. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"So, do you have a better plan?" Hermione asked.

"Actually, I do."

...x...x...x...

Ginny's eyes burned with tears, and the harder she fought, the more blurry her vision became. She blinked hard as she yelled another curse, the magic bursting forth and hitting her opponent square in the chest. However, there was no time to stop and celebrate her victory as the figure slumped to the ground because another pursuer had just attacked from the right.

Ron was at her left, currently fighting off a masked death eater. As the fighting continued, Ginny inched toward her brother until they were practically back to back. She could hardly find the strength to fight anymore, but she wanted them all dead: every death eater, and especially Voldemort. They had taken the only man she ever loved, and as weak as her limbs currently felt, her heart cried out for vengeance.

"Ginny," Ron muttered in between curses. "You have to go."

Ginny shook her head, blinking more tears from her eyes, and hit her opponent with a hex.

"You have to go find mum and dad," Ron urged through gritted teeth. His masked opponent was turning out to be more than a fair match for him.

"I'm... not... leaving," she choked as she turned to face Ron's attacker. Two against one was hardly fair, but Ginny knew better than to trouble herself with something as trivial as 'fairness' at the moment.

"Do as I say," Ron snapped. "Remember what Harry told you about Nagini being the last Horcrux?"

Ginny leaped out of the way of a stream of green sparks and shot a countercurse at the death eater. His body went stiff as soon as the magic hit him, and he keeled over backwards onto the stone floor. Fighting continued around them, but for the moment, Ginny and Ron were unoccupied.

"Do as I say, Ginny. You have to get out of here. I'll come too, but first I have to find Hermione."

Ginny stared into her brother's eyes. The look in them was urgent, pleading. Ginny knew at once why he was asking her to leave; He had already lost his brother and his best friend, and he did not want to lose her as well. She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again. If she turned her back on Ron now, it might be the last time she ever saw him.

She rushed forward and wrapped her arms around his middle. He squeezed her tightly for a moment, but then pushed her away.

"Run, Ginny," he urged.

She nodded, and without another word, turned on her heel and ran as hard as she could. She jumped and dodged several spells, but her eyes were set forward, on the entrance to the hall. Once she broke away from the fighting it would be easy for her to disappear. If she happened upon her mum and dad, she would disappear with them, but her main priority was to stay alive. After all, how much help would she be if she was dead?

She had just reached the entrance to the hall when she screamed. A horrible pain had just erupted from her left shoulder and as she stumbled forward she reached up to apply pressure to the wound. She jumped sideways out of the doorway to shield herself from another curse and removed her hand from her aching shoulder. She was hardly surprised to find it covered in bright, red blood.

...x...x...x...

"We'll fly out," Draco explained.

They had started down the corridor once more, this time with Draco leading. Hermione followed angrily, staring so fiercely at the back of his head that she half expected his hair to burst into flames.

"But Draco, I can't fly," she whined.

He stopped short and turned on his heel. "Are you a witch or not? Besides, you seemed pretty damned capable in the Room of Requirement."

Hermione bit her lip. "Well, it's not that I can't fly... I don't like heights."

Draco's eyes grew in disbelief. "You're a nutter... you're more afraid of heights than you are of being killed."

Hermione sucked her teeth. He _did _have a point. Was she really willing to risk being caught trying to sneak out another way because she didn't like riding brooms?

When Hermione did not argue, Draco continued, "And since you've yet to come up with a better plan, I say we do it my way."

She rolled her eyes. "You can't stand to not be in charge can you?"

He shrugged. "Leadership suits me. Now hurry up mudblood, before someone sees us."

Draco had left his broom back at the mansion, so there was no way he could simply 'Accio' it to him. And if he tried to summon any random broom, there was a chance that so many would come charging at them that they would get injured in the process. Therefore, it was by process of elimination that Draco began to search the corridors for a broom closet.

The only closets he knew the exact locations of were the ones near the dungeons, because he had often found himself inside them with Pansy Parkinson or other willing Slytherin girls to snog. He was many things, but he was not a public kisser. However, he had never bothered to note the locations of any other closets around the castle. After all, the only person who needed to use them was Mr. "Filth" the squib caretaker and possible some of the other professors.

"I think there's one down this next corridor. Take a right!" Hermione urged.

To her surprise, Draco veered to the right and she followed him down the corridor. He may have liked playing leader, but she was glad to see that he would still listen to her. He didn't want to be a tyrant, just in charge. Hermione was so carried away with her tiny revelation that she failed to notice when Draco stopped dead in his tracks and she slammed into his back.

She opened her mouth to apologize, but another voice called down the corridor first, "Draco, Draco, Draco."

Hermione felt immediately as though she had swallowed an ice cube; an unnatural coldness started in her chest and spread throughout her body as she recognized the voice of Bellatrix Lestrange. She was immediately grateful for her short, thin stature and she stood carefully behind Malfoy, saying a silent thanks to the cover that his flowing cloak provided.

"What are you doing up here, Bella?" Draco asked, keeping his voice smooth and level.

She cackled. "I could ask you the same thing, dear. Come, now. Your parents are looking for you."

Hermione could hear the echo of Bellatrix's shoes clicking on the stone floor. _Don't come closer, don't come closer... _she thought.

"I'll be there in a moment," Draco assured her. "I just had to collect a few things."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. We musn't keep the Dark Lord waiting," Bellatrix ushered, the clicking sound of her heels growing louder.

_Don't come closer, don'tcomecloser, don'tcomecloser..._ Hermione thought as quickly as she could.

"I'll be there in a moment, Bella," Draco said flatly.

The clicking of Bellatrix's heels stopped as she considered this. "Very well," she spat. "Just be quick about it."

Hermione's hands were shaking, but a wave of relief washed over her as she heard Bellatrix turn away and head back down the corridor. Draco remained still, watching her as she went, not wanting to address Hermione until his aunt had disappeared.

"Come on," Draco whispered as Bellatrix made her way to the end of the hall. He turned, grabbing Hermione by the arm, and headed in the opposite direction.

"Oh and Draco..." Bellatrix's voice called, but quickly cut off. "Draco, what are you doing?"

Draco stopped in his tracks and Hermione tried to march ahead, but he still had a firm grip on her arm.

"Draco," she whispered harshly, "Let go."

"DRACO!" Bella wailed. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH THAT MUDBLOOD?"

Draco looked from his aunt to Hermione. His eyes were glazed over, as though he was seeing without seeing what was going on. He was distant, and Hermione knew what was coming. He would turn her over to his aunt so that she could be executed.

"Draco," she whispered again. "Let me go. _Please_."

Bella was heading towards them, her wand drawn, with an evil smile making its way across her face.

"I was..." Draco started, but his words were lost.

"Kill her, Draco," Bella encouraged. "And do it quickly. We must get back downstairs."

Hermione reached to draw her wand with her free hand, intent on cursing Bellatrix. As much as she hated that woman for everything she had ever done, including torturing her for information at the Malfoy's mansion, Hermione could not find it in herself to say those two, unforgivable words: _Avada Kedavra_. They even sounded wrong as she thought about them. She wrapped her fingers around the handle of her wand, trying to decide which hex was more difficult to counter, when Draco moved.

His wand was already drawn and in his hand, but instead of pointing it at Hermione, he pointed it at Bellatrix. A flash of red sparks shot out of its end, without him having to speak the curse, but Bella leaped out of the way just in time to avoid them.

"Draco, what are you doing? Kill her!" Bellatrix wailed. "Avada Kedavra!"

Draco released Hermione's arm and shoved her down. The green magic blew passed her and disappeared down the corridor. Hermione, who had hardly registered that Draco had just saved her life, watched as Draco continued to attack, not even pausing for breath.

After a minute, she regained her wits and drew her wand.

"Petrificus totalus!" Hermione yelled.

She watched in triumph as Bellatrix's body instantly went rigid and she keeled over backwards onto the stone floor.

"Malfoy, come on! We have to go!" Hermione ushered as she pulled him by the sleeve.

"Just give me a second," he said, holding a hand up. He made his way cautiously toward Bellatrix's body and nudged her with his foot. She was stunned, her eyes gazing blankly ahead as Draco knelt over her.

"Obliviate," Draco said.

When the spell was complete, Draco turned back to Hermione. She was looking at him curiously.

"When she wakes, she won't remember that she saw you. She won't remember that she saw me helping you."

"That's.. smart."

"You sound surprised," Draco said with a smirk. "Now let's go."


	3. Escape

Draco wrenched the door of the broom closet open; Hermione could tell by the murderous look on his face that he was angry it had taken them so long to find one. The closet housed buckets of varying sizes, a few chemicals used for cleaning, feather dusters, and at the very back, several old brooms that were covered with a thick layer of dust.

Draco frowned as he grabbed two. These brooms were so ancient they had been converted from flying brooms to brooms used for cleaning. They would not fly half as fast as his Firebolt... he almost wondered if they would fly at all. Begrudgingly, he handed one of the brooms to Hermione after knocking off a majority of the dust and mounted his.

"Ready?" he asked, looking from the broom between his legs to Hermione.

Hermione held the broom at an arm's length, her nose crinkled in disgust as she looked at it like it was something poisonous.

"Merlin's balls, Granger, would you just mount the damned thing!" Draco snapped, his patience wearing thin.

Hermione did as she was told, but not without shooting him a dirty look. The broom felt foreign to her, as brooms always had. She may have been a champion when it came to academics, but she had never been very successful at physical activities. Flying was no different, as it involved a great deal of balance and dexterity. She possessed neither.

She copied Draco as he kicked off the ground and his broom rose into the air. She wobbled for a moment, gripping onto the broom handle so hard that her knuckles turned white, but eventually caught her balance. She gazed down at the floor, now several feet below her, and felt a wave of triumph.

Draco leaned forward, Hermione following suit, and they soared down the hallway. Draco made a tight turn at the end of the corridor, making it look easy, but as Hermione approached the adjoining corridor, she slowed. She turned the handle of the broom to the left, and veered slightly, but it wasn't enough. The front of the broom scraped the wall ahead, and Hermione's side was slammed into the stone. She kicked off the wall to push herself back to the middle of the corridor and leaned forward to catch up with Draco.

"Watch it, Granger!" Draco called over his shoulder. "If you drive like you fly, London had better watch out."

Hermione furrowed her brow, but it wasn't at Draco's insult. What did Draco know about driving? She was sure he had never seen a car in his life; After all, wizards had no use for cars when they had more efficient, inexpensive ways to travel.

Hermione swerved so that she had a clear view ahead of Draco and saw that they were in a dead-ended corridor. There was a wide window at the end that overlooked the black lake, and Hermione realized a second too late what they were doing.

"Expulso!" Draco yelled as he pointed his wand at the window.

With the sound of a small explosion, the window burst outwards and glittering shards of glass fell towards the Earth. Draco ducked a bit to avoid hitting his head as he soared out the window. Hermione closed her eyes as she passed through the gaping hole, and felt a lurch in her stomach when she opened them again.

Where the floor of the corridor had previously been, there was now nothing. At least a hundred feet separated her from the ground; She instantly gripped the broom handle tighter. She looked back at the castle and saw a swarm of people wearing black cloaks. Some were moving. Others were perfectly still. And, Hermione realized with horror, that some of them were looking in their direction.

"Draco!" she called nervously.

"I know," he called. "Just keep flying."

Hermione dared to look back once more and saw that two death eaters had broken away from the others and were now flying toward them. They were still far behind, but as slow as Draco and Hermione's brooms were flying, they would catch up to them in no time.

Knowing she had to do something, Hermione let go of the broom with one hand and drew her wand. With only one hand helping her hold her balance, she felt extremely unstable. If she fell, at least her death would be quick. Hopefully painless. She looked back and pointed her wand at the approaching death eaters.

Shooting at a moving target is difficult. Shooting at a moving target while you yourself are moving, is even more so. Hermione was learning the latter as she attempted to shoot spells at their attackers, who were getting closer with every passing second. When several of her spells missed, Hermione gave up and turned to see where she was going.

It took her a minute for her to find Draco. In her attempt to thwart the death eaters, Hermione had veered severely to the right and had gained altitude. She swerved to the side so that she could catch up with Draco and when she was only a few feet away from him, she pointed her wand at him.

"Granger... what are you doing?" he stuttered, surprised to find her wand pointed at him.

"Trust me," she said.

...x...x...x...

Ginny ran down the corridor, stopping periodically to catch her breath. She was losing a lot of blood from the wound in her shoulder, and even though it might have been futile, she was headed to the hospital wing. Even if no one was there, she might be able to find some Dittany... or at least a way to bandage the wound.

She stopped once more, her vision swimming in front of her. She felt like she would faint at any moment, but despite how miserable she felt, she forced herself down the hall. She _would_ reach the hospital, or she would pass out trying.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, she found the hospital wing. Two vaguely familiar men were standing guard, perhaps to protect the people inside or perhaps to keep people out. She could not remember from where she knew them, but their concerned faces seemed familiar to her. At the sight of her, one of them ran forward and assisted her into the hall.

Ginny's stomach turned when she looked around the hall. Many of the beds were occupied. Some of the people in the beds were not moving. Others were hollering in pain. Madam Pomfrey was scurrying throughout the room, tending to as many of the wounded as she could. Some younger students were helping her; some were taking wet towels to the patients, others were wrapping limbs until Madam Pomfrey could tend to them herself, some were passing out tiny cups fills with what Ginny assumed to be a healing potion. Ginny, feeling that she was safe enough to let down her guard, collapsed onto one of the beds, gritting her teeth in pain as her shoulder hit the mattress.

Ginny gazed up at the ceiling; the edges of her vision seemed darker than usual, and she half wondered if she was dying. She probably was, and probably would if no one tended to her quickly. But she was so weak, she could hardly call for the nurse. The noise of the room around her seemed muffled and far away as she closed her eyes. Her shoulder throbbed and she imagined more and more of her blood spilling out onto the bed beneath her beneath her with every heartbeat...

"Can you hear me?"

Ginny opened her eyes, her vision blurry. The owner of the voice was a tiny first year; he had blonde hair and glasses and the robes he wore were slightly too small.

"Drink this," he offered, handing her one of the tiny cups.

Ginny did not, could not lean up to drink the medicine, but rather opened her mouth slightly and allowed the liquid to fall into her mouth. She swallowed hard and closed her eyes again, the chaotic scene of the hospital wing disappearing once more. However, the noise that had been muffled and far away was now louder and more clear. Ginny furrowed her brows slightly as she felt the pain in her shoulder dull; It did not disappear, but she could tell the difference from before. She no longer felt like she was dying, but rather that she had taken a bludger to the arm.

Maybe she wouldn't die after all.

By the time Madam Pomfrey made it to Ginny's bedside, the medicine she had taken was in full effect; She could hardly feel the throbbing pain in the her shoulder.

"Ms. Weasley,"Madam Pomfrey said.

Ginny opened her eyes sleepily and stared up at the face of the nurse.

"Where are you hurt?" she asked.

"Shoulder," Ginny mumbled.

"I'm going to need you to roll on your side, Ms. Weasley, so I can take a better look," Madam Pomfrey said as she rolled her sleeves back up. They kept sliding down to her wrists as she worked and she didn't want to get them soaked in blood.

With Madam Pomfrey's help, Ginny made it onto her side. She tried to lay perfectly still as the nurse cut away the material of her shirt so she could get a better view of the wound.

"It was definitely a curse," Madam Pomfrey said in a hushed voice. "David! Will you bring me a towel and a bucket of water?"

Ginny winced as Madam Pomfrey worked, an occasion pain shooting down her arm. She had no idea what Madam Pomfrey was doing to her, but she was not particularly eager to find out. She would be fine as long as she did not see what was going on and if Madam Pomfrey could fix her.

"You'll have a good deal of scarring," Madam Pomfrey assured her, "but it doesn't appear that anything serious is damaged. I've applied Dittany and stitched what I can, but the rest will have to heal with time."

Ginny forced herself in a sitting position; the gauze that Madam Pomfrey had wrapped around her shoulder felt gaudy and odd.

"You should rest," Madam Pomfrey said as she gathered her things to make her way to the next bed. "We're safe here."

Ginny shook her head. "I have to find my family."

...x...x...x...

The disillusionment charm Hermione placed on Draco worked instantly and he disappeared into the blue sky. She, however, was left completely visible and vulnerable. Several streams of magic shot passed her, some missing by mere inches, and she squealed. She could not die, not here, not now. They were so close to escaping. Nervously, Hermione turned her wand to point it at herself, and muttered the same disillusionment charm.

Her heart dropped when nothing happened. She had never tried to place herself under the disillusionment charm... maybe it wasn't possible. Perhaps she could get Draco to place the spell on her, at least until they reached their destination. Would he even do it?

"Draco?" she called, not knowing where he was.

He did not answer immediately.

"Draco!" she called again. "Can you see me?"

Draco turned around, searching the sky anxiously. He could see the two death eaters that had been on their trail slowing their pace in confusion. After a moment, one of them turned to head back to the castle and the other only followed after another minute. Draco searched the air around him, looking for his temporary companion, but he did not see her. A flicker of excitement leaped in his chest.

He had done it. He had escaped. He was now free to do as he pleased, without having to worry about pleasing his father or following Voldemort. He could hardly believe it. As many times as he had tried to break away from his family and from Voldemort, he had finally done it. The crackpot Dumbledore had tried to tell him that the light side would be able to hide him, to protect him. But Draco had never believed him. Now, he could almost taste the freedom as he flew toward the forbidden forest.

What was more, he no longer needed Hermione's help. He was in the clear. He could just as easily leave her here and disapparate alone when he reached the edge of the wards. After all, she was just a mudblood. And they shook on it; If they escaped alive, which they had, that would be the end of it.

"Draco?" Hermione called once more.

Should he answer her? He didn't want to. He would much rather have disappeared without saying another word to her. It would be easier that way. That way, there would be no awkward goodbyes.

_Goodbye?_ he thought. What the bloody hell did he care about a goodbye?

"No," he called reluctantly. "I can't see you."

Hermione, who had not looked back at the castle to see that the pursuing death eaters had retreated, smiled.

"Now where are we going?" Hermione asked. "I can't exactly follow you."

"You can probably reverse the disillusion now," Draco said, slowing his pace some. Hermione's voice was coming from somewhere behind him.

"But I can't see you," she whined.

Draco slapped his hand to his forehead. "Sometimes, Granger, I swear you can't be as smart as they say. Take it off yourself first, and I'll come to you."

Hermione bit her bottom lip. Why hadn't she thought of that first? It was obviously the logical thing to do. How was it then, that Draco had thought of it first? She felt her cheeks burning red as she pointed her wand at herself once more. She refused to be outsmarted by such an arrogant, self-centered arse, even though it was _his_ plan they had employed to escape.

"Now, come here, Draco," Hermione called, searching the air around her to no avail.

Hermione felt the broom beneath her suddenly leap upward, and she grabbed hold of the handle shakily. It rocked again, this time to the left and she fought to keep her balance.

"Draco!" she screamed.

Someone nearby, Draco erupted into laughter.

"You're going to make me fall," Hermione scolded.

"Then I'd only laugh harder," Draco said as he flew to Hermione's side. "I'm on your left."

"You'll be lucky if I reverse the charm, and don't hex you instead," she spat, pointing her wand to her left.

Draco's form dissolved into view after Hermione muttered the charm reversal and he stared at Hermione awkwardly.

"What?" Hermione finally snapped after a long moment.

"We're outside the wards," he assured her. "Let's land."

Draco dove toward the forest, leaving Hermione hovering in midair. She followed, chewing on the inside of her cheek. They dodged tree branches on the way down, eventually landing in a tiny clearing. Draco immediately tossed his broom aside, and Hermione did the same. She had a strange urge to kiss the ground like she had seen many times in movies, but thought better of it. However, she was definitely relieved to be on solid ground once more.

"Well, we made it," Hermione said with a sigh of relief.

Draco said nothing, but nodded. _Oh no..._ he thought. _Here it comes_.

"Where will you go?" Hermione asked nervously.

Draco swallowed hard. He had not thought about where he would go after he escaped. He had been so focused on getting out, that he had not even considered that they would actually make it.

"I don't know," he answered.

Hermione frowned. "Come with me."

Draco's eyes grew wide as he looked at the muggleborn. For a moment he thought he had misheard her, but the expectant look in her eyes told him that he had heard correctly. She wanted him to go with her. He swallowed once more and tasted bile.

"W-what?"

"I said come with me. We don't have to be friends. But seeings as you don't have a place to go and I do, I am offering it to you."

Draco bit the corner of his mouth and considered this. As much as he did not want to go with the mudblood, something in his gut was urging him on, telling him to accept her invitation. He would be safe, and he would have a place to stay. He would not constantly be on the run, sleeping in a different place every night.

"Where?" Draco asked shortly.

"Harry's house," Hermione said.

Draco felt his stomach turn as he heard Harry's name. The name stirred so many thoughts within Draco that he could hardly process them all: The boy that had been his nemesis throughout their years at school, the boy that had chosen to be friends with the blood traitor Weasley in stead of him, the boy who had always outmatched him in Quidditch, the Chosen One... The boy who had risked his life to save his friends time and time again, the boy who had gone toe to toe with Voldemort and beaten him on numerous occasions, the boy who had not left him, Draco, to die in the Room of Requirement, and the boy that had ultimately given his life in an attempt to save his friends and the wizarding world from Voldemort... even though it had been for nothing. He died; He gave his life while trying to make the world a better place.

How had Draco never seen it before? Harry Potter was such a good man. Even though he had never been presented with the situation, Draco doubted he would be able do half the things Harry Potter did. This realization made him feel sick. How could he possibly take refuge in Harry's house after treating him so badly for the last few years?

"I-" Draco started to say, but he lost the words on his tongue. The thoughts kept coming, more quickly now, and they started to overwhelm him.

Harry had been right all along, but Draco had been too blind to see. Voldemort was the enemy, as he had always been and always would be. The world that Voldemort envisioned was one of tyranny, in which the death eaters bent to his evil will and slaughtered innocent people just because they are different.

Draco shook his head. Where the bloody hell were all these thoughts coming from? He couldn't stand it anymore. He had to stop thinking about it...

"I can't," he said finally.

Hermione furrowed her brows. "Why not?"

"I just can't!" Draco said, his voice angry. "I said that once we got out, that was the end of it."

Hermione nodded slowly. She heard what Draco was saying, but something in her gut told her that he didn't mean it. It had to be the look in his eyes. They didn't match the angry tone of his voice; they were much softer. He looked worried.

"But Draco we've come all this way!" Hermione pleaded. She herself could hardly believe that she was trying to get him to accompany her. Any other day, she would have accepted his decline and moved on.

He shook his head. "No."

Hermione huffed, but she wasn't angry. "When will you learn that we are on the same side?"

Draco did not answer, but merely stared at the ground.

"Fine," Hermione said, giving up. "But when you change your mind, let me know."

"And how will I do that if I don't know where you are?" he asked curiously.

"Send a patronus," Hermione answered. "It will find me."

With a small 'pop' Hermione disappeared.


	4. Harry's House

Hermione stood frozen, uncertain whether she should go through with her original plan or if she should disapparate once more and find another place to stay. She currently stood on the doorstep of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, her hand resting tentatively on the doorknob, as dozens of questions spun through her mind. She had not been to Grimmauld Place since she, Harry, and Ron sneaked into the Ministry of Magic, and there was no telling who or what could be waiting for her on the other side of the door. Then again, this was her best chance for a safe house at the moment.

She was mentally reviewing the list of secret keepers of Number 12 Grimmauld Place - at least the ones she was aware of - as she stood paralyzed on the doorstep. Snape and Dumbledore were both dead, as were Remus and Tonks. Harry, Sirius and Mad-Eye were also dead. As far as Hermione knew and hoped, the Weasleys, as well as Kingsley were still alive. However, Hermione was most worried about one particular secret keeper: Yaxley.

The day they broke into the Ministry of Magic, Hermione, Harry, and Ron apparated to this place, but they were followed by Yaxley. Hermione had never been certain whether Yaxley had actually seen the house before she hit him with the Revulsion jinx, but they had chosen not to return just in case. If Yaxley _had_ seen Grimmauld Place, she was certain that he would have divulged the information to the other death eaters. But if he had not seen, or if he had not known exactly what it was that he had seen, _perhaps_ he had not enlightened his fellow death eaters or Lord Voldemort before he died.

There was also the issue of 'who' Grimmauld Place now belonged to. When Sirius died, he willed the house, along with everything in it, to Harry, but now that Harry was dead...

After several minutes poised on the doorstep, Hermione decided that it would do nothing to stall any longer. With her wand clenched tightly in her free hand, Hermione turned the doorknob and pushed the door inward. It swung slowly, with an eerie but familiar creak.

As she stepped over the threshold and into the corridor, the smell of accumulated dust was overwhelming. She braced herself for what she knew was coming.

As if on cue, the image of Dumbledore began to swirl into view.

"I did not kill you!" Hermione squeaked.

The image, as it had so many times before, burst apart at her declaration and Hermione was alone once more.

"Homenum revelio," Hermione cast, her wand outstretched in front of her like a sword.

Nothing happened. She breathed a small sigh of relief; She was, at least for the moment, alone in Grimmauld Place.

Hermione choked on the thick air and made her way down the dark hall; She knew the layout of the house well from the time she, Ron, and Harry had spent here planning how they would break into the Ministry of Magic. She made it to the end of the hall and took a right, stepping in the dining room.

The house was exactly as they had left it the day they went to the Ministry, aside from the buildup of dust. The chairs surrounding the dinner table were perfectly alined, apart from the three at the very end. Nostalgia overwhelmed her as she noticed a pile of parchment and she imagined herself, Ron, and Harry studying the many maps and lists they had made. She forced herself away from the kitchen; She could not deal with the memories at the moment. Not after she had just escaped the scene at Hogwarts. Not after her best friend, Harry Potter, had just been killed.

Hermione made her way through the entire house, searching nearly every room for signs of intrusion. She was eager to know if anyone had been in the house since the last time that she herself had been here, but nothing seemed out of place. The only difference she noticed, was that everything in the house was covered with a thick layer of dust. It seemed as though Kreacher had not cleaned since they left that day.

Hermione's eyes grew wide and she felt her stomach drop at the thought of the house elf.

"Kreacher!" she called.

She waited for a moment, listening in the silence for any sign of the house elf, but she heard nothing.

"Kreacher!" she called again, her voice cracking.

After waiting another moment in the silence, Hermione gave up. She didn't know what she had been expecting - perhaps for Kreacher to magically appear the way he did when Harry summoned him - but she felt her chest fall slightly in disappointment. Even if Kreacher had appeared and called her horrible names like he had in the past, at least she would have had company - a familiar face. Now, she had no one.

She finally settled down in the bedroom that she had shared with Ginny when Grimmauld Place had been headquarters for the Order. Pushing the door open slowly with her foot, her gaze fell across the room; It was untouched, with the beds still made. The sight, along with her utter exhaustion, was enough to make her eyes well up with tears. She closed them hard and cleared her throat to cast a cleaning charm on the entire room.

She collapsed on the bed and pulled out her beaded bag. She needed to sleep, but if she was going to be ready at a moment's notice to disappear, or travel if she needed to, it was time to revise the contents of her bag and get herself organized. She flipped the little bag over and shook it vigorously, watching with intrigue as it dispelled a great pile of clothes, books, potions, and other items onto the bed.

She began to organize her belongings, mainly to keep her mind off of everything that had transpired that day. She did not want to think about the horrific scene at Hogwarts, nor did she want to think about those who had already died. She did not want to think about Harry, or anyone else. It was all too surreal... all too painful. She knew she would have to face the truth eventually, but she did not want to let herself break. She had to be strong.

_I have to be strong, I have to be strong..._

She grabbed hold of a severely wrinkled T-shirt and was about to toss it aside when she paused. It was not hers, and it was far too small to belong to Ron. It had belonged to Harry.

She could no longer hold back the tears as they welled in her eyes again and they quickly spilled down her cheeks. As she held the last piece of Harry that she would ever have, something inside her broke. She was strong, but even the strongest warriors have times of weakness. And now that she was here, alone, and no one could see her, she would allow herself a moment of weakness.

...x...x...x...

"Where have you been Draco?" Lucius snapped as his son approached.

"I chased down some of those who tried to flee," Draco lied as smugly as he could manage, even though his heart was racing and his hands were shaking.

Lucius smiled approvingly. "Come along. The Dark Lord has requested our presence in the castle. He has an announcement."

Draco followed behind his parents as they led the death eaters into the Great Hall, desperately trying to calm his nerves all the while. Voldemort stood in front of the teacher's table while his giant snake, Nagini, slithered around his feet. Draco's stomach flipped sickly as he noticed Harry Potter's lifeless body lying on the teacher's table.

"After decades of waiting, years of planning, we have triumphed, my friends!" Voldemort's voice hissed over the crowd and was followed by applause.

Draco clapped along as enthusiastically as he could manage, despite his contradicting feelings. He had to keep up the act, or people would sense that something was amiss. All Voldemort would have to do would be to read his mind and he would know Draco helped a mudblood escape. Draco would die.

"This is the beginning of a glorious future for the wizarding world," Voldemort explained. "We now have control of the Ministry of Magic, as well as the school of Hogwarts. My only regret is that so much magical blood was spilled to ensure us our victory, but purebloods will no longer be in short supply. As of today, only students of pureblood decent will be accepted here at Hogwarts."

Another round of applause. Draco's head was beginning to pound, and he was starting to feel sick. Still, he kept his expression as stoic as possible and he kept his chin high.

"I am naming myself the Headmaster of Hogwarts," Voldemort announced. "And Pius Thicknesse is to remain the Minster of Magic until further notice. Those fortunate enough to teach classes here at my school will be advised at a later date. You are all dismissed."

Voldemort then exited the stage and disappeared into the crowd of death eaters. Draco stood motionless, his eyes fixed on the body of Harry Potter.

"Come, Draco," Lucius snapped.

...x..x..x...

Only after securing the bedroom door with several enchantments did Hermione feel safe enough to sleep. She had sorted through her belongings and decided it was better to leave most of her books neatly stacked on a shelf in the bedroom. However, a few (one on Transfiguration and another on Defense Against the Dark Arts) she repacked in her bag. She left out all of Ron's clothes and most of Harry's, but she did repack Harry's extremely wrinkled T-shirt.

Although she was only able to sleep for a few hours, she felt slightly better when she woke. She had more energy, and enough time had passed for everything to sink in. Harry was gone, his life sacrificed in an attempt to save those he loved. Almost everyone she cared about was dead, and she was not even sure that the ones she supposed to still be alive had even made it. Voldemort now had control of the wizarding world, and he was sure to take advantage of his position in every way possible, making it impossible for Hermione or any other muggleborn to go out into the open.

All in all, things were very, very bad.

Hermione had so much planning to do that she hardly knew where to begin. She needed to find out how many of her allies were still alive; She would make contact with the Weasleys if she could. She needed to find out where Voldemort would be staying because she had to finish the job that Harry started. There was only one more horcrux to destroy, and that was the snake. If she found Voldemort, she found the snake. She also needed to find a way to destroy the horcrux in the event that she got the chance.

As she was mentally noting all the things she needed to get done, her stomach rumbled in protest. She also needed to eat, because that last thing she had eaten had been food from Aberforth's which had been neither tasty nor filling. She knew without checking that nothing in the kitchen would be edible, not after all the months it had been there; As much as she hated to admit it, and as much as she did not want to do it, Hermione would have to leave Grimmauld Place to find something to eat.


	5. Trapped, Alone, and Lost

It had been no surprise to Draco that Voldemort would take over Hogwarts, rather than declare himself Minister of Magic. After all, the Ministry was crawling with death eaters in every department and Voldemort's personal puppet, Pius, could easily carry out Voldemort's wishes. No, it had not surprised Draco in the slightest.

And it had not surprised Draco that Voldemort would take control of Hogwarts and transform it into a single house school solely for purebloods. He would mold them, and teach them from a young age that pureblood supremacy was the way to a perfect wizarding world and that mudbloods were beneath them all. If anything, Draco had been expecting that.

What did surprise Draco, however, was the fact that Voldemort returned to Malfoy Manor after their victory at Hogwarts, where he would contentedly remain until Hogwarts was repaired and ready to reopen. Draco was certain that his parents were at least slightly disappointed; After all, Voldemort had used their home as his personal headquarters for the past year, and they were all looking forward to some peace and quiet now that the dark side had prevailed. At least for now, peace and quiet would be postponed until Voldemort decided to relocate.

As Draco paced the length of his bedroom, he ran his hands nervously through his hair. He had remained in his room as much as possible ever since they arrived, only leaving to join his family in the banquet hall at mealtimes. He feared that if he spent too much time around the Dark Lord, that his nerves would somehow give him away, that his secret would somehow be discovered. He could not let that happen, as it would easily cost him his life.

He cursed loudly. Why had he not left with the filthy, mudblood Granger when he had the chance? He hated the idea of being in her company, even if it was only for a little while until he found somewhere else to go, but perhaps it would have been a better fate than the one he was currently facing.

Essentially, he was a prisoner in his own home. Any move he made, whether it be leaving the manor or remaining reclusive in his room, would be detected by the Dark Lord himself. As if that was not bad enough, he was harboring a dangerous secret that, if discovered, would mean his certain death... or worse.

_What the bloody fuck am I supposed to do?_

He could still leave. He could pack his things, say that he would be back, only never to return. He could pack his things and sneak out in the dead of night. But if he managed to escape the manor, where the bloody hell would he go? His entire family supported the Dark Lord, and most of them were here at the manor anyway. The truth was, he didn't know anyone who wasn't a death eater these days.

Oh, why the bloody hell didn't he just go with the mudblood?

He had had so many opportunities to leave this life, to escape, to start over, yet he had always backed out at the last minute. Every time, his gut told him to take the opportunity, but his brain always convinced him otherwise. He had been so close to escaping... He _had_ escaped with the mudblood, but he had come back. Was he truly that afraid of what might happen if he opposed Voldemort that he would return, even when freedom had been within his grasp?

There was a knock at his door and he jumped nearly a foot off the floor.

"Draco," Bellatrix's smooth voice made its way through the door.

"Coming," Draco called.

He took a deep breath and tried his best to compose himself as he made him way to the door. He opened it and found Bellatrix Lestrange propped against his door frame looking rather bored.

"Can I help you, Bella?" he asked.

Bellatrix smirked. "Can I not come see my favorite nephew without wanting or needing something?"

Draco was not fooled. "What do you want Bella?"

Bella's smile faded and her eyes narrowed. "Your mother sent me to fetch you. You're wanted downstairs."

Draco swallowed hard and, in an attempt to uphold his casual behavior, gestured for Bella to lead the way.

...x...x...x...

Hermione decided that the most logical place to obtain food would be in a muggle grocer, beings that there she was the least likely to be recognized. Despite her curiosity to know what was going on in the wizarding world, she could not risk being caught under any circumstance. To her knowledge, she and Ron were the only people aware of the horcrux, the way to destroy Voldemort. They were the wizarding world's only hope.

Even though she had chosen a muggle grocer, Hermione was still nervous about going into the open. After all, death eaters had found them in the muggle world before. They could do it again. If she had had any Polyjuice Potion, she would have taken on the identity of someone else as an extra precaution, but she did not. Instead, she decided that a bit of transfiguration would have to work.

Hermione stood nervously in front of the lavatory mirror, gazing at her reflection. She had never tried human transfiguration, especially on herself, and although she was the brightest witch of her age, she was still a little hesitant. History was marked with famous cases of self-transfiguration that had gone horribly wrong, and she had even had to write a couple of essays during her years at Hogwarts on such cases.

When she was finished, her lips were fuller and her nose was thinner. She had even managed to change the color of her hair, and although she did not look particularly attractive as a platinum blonde, she was pleased by the convincing transformation. With her new, temporary disguise, she disapparated from the doorstep of Grimmauld Place.

Hermione's muggle money was dwindling dangerously, but she managed to buy enough food to at least last her the week, if not longer. She had no idea if she would even be at Grimmauld Place for a week, but she was at least planning on it; After all, nothing was certain. A group of death eaters could show up at any moment, kick down the door, and kill her. But, just as easily, the Weasleys or the last members of the Order could also arrive. She had her things ready to leave at a moment's notice, but for the foreseeable future she planned to remain here.

Another day passed without incident at Grimmauld Place, and Hermione began to contemplate what she would do next. She desperately wanted to know if the Weasleys had survived the attack, and where they were hiding. Surely they wouldn't have gone back to the burrow since Voldemort knew of its location. There was always Bill and Fleur's cottage, but Hermione half expected that Bill and Fleur would have fled to France by now.

Hermione decided that her first move would be to find out if everyone was alright by way of patronus. After all, going after Voldemort alone would be a futile, suicide mission. She would definitely need help. Besides, she needed to know that everyone was alright for her own, personal sanity.

Hermione conjured several glistening, silver otters that flipped around the living room before disappearing through the walls and ceilings. She sent them with a single, simple message that she tried to encode just in case a patronus was intercepted: "Sanctuary at Harry's." She watched as the last of the otters disappeared from sight and she took a deep breath. Now, all she had to do was wait and hope that the patronuses found her friends.

...x...x...x...

Ginny had been running longer than she could remember, slowing only to catch her breath. She knew she was outside the grounds of Hogwarts, but she had made it deep into the forest and now had no idea where she was. The good thing was that she had lost the death eaters that had been chasing her. The bad thing was that she had lost her wand in the process.

After she left the hospital wing, Ginny had intended to find her parents. However, what she found were several death eaters who were rounding up the remaining muggleborns and blood traitors. She stunned one and disarmed another before she ran, but she was followed.

Curse after curse shot passed her, rebounding off the walls, floor, and suits of armor. As she ran, she shot spells over her shoulder, praying that they would find their mark even though she was not looking. She was not so lucky. Instead, the death eaters continued after her until a disarming spell hit her and her wand was dislodged from her hand.

She screamed, but she could not stop to retrieve her wand. They were right behind her. She heard one of the cackle madly as her wand fell to the ground, but she did not stop running.

In all honestly, Ginny was surprised that she had made it as far as she had. Either the death eaters had given up, or they were called back, because they had stopped following her. Unarmed, Ginny had fled the castle and made it into the Forbidden Forest, but now she had run out of ideas. She could not call for help and she could not apparate and she was completely alone.

Ginny paused. She had just kicked something on the ground, and as she looked down she saw a discarded article of clothing. She furrowed her brow and nudged the material with her foot. It was silky, slinky, and its colors shifted strangely as she moved it.

Her heart leaped in her chest and she knelt to scoop up the material. It was just as she had expected. She had found the cloak of invisibility.


	6. Draco's Fortune

Draco followed Bellatrix down the corridor in silence. She made no effort at small talk, and Draco could not have managed conversation if he had wanted to; He felt like his heart was beating in his throat. Why would his mother have sent Bella to fetch him? It must have been for something serious. Had the Dark Lord grown suspicious of his absence? Was he being punished? Could it have been his father, or even Voldemort who requested his presence? As eager as he was to have his questions answered, he kept his mouth shut and kept walking behind his aunt.

A wave of relief washed over Draco as they stepped into the dining hall and he saw his mother waiting for them, alone. She had the hood of her traveling cloak drawn over her blonde hair and she smiled meekly when she met her son's eyes.

"You wished to see me, Mother?" he asked before stooping to kiss her cheek.

"Yes, Draco, I would like you to accompany me to Diagon Alley," she said with a blank stare.

Draco furrowed his brow in confusion, but quickly recovered. "Of course. Will Bella be joining us?"

Bella snorted.

"No, dear, it will be just the two of us," Narcissa assured him.

Draco forced a smile. "I'll get my coat."

Draco met his mother at the entrance to the manor a few moments later. Bella had disappeared, more than likely to return to Voldemort's side where she spent the majority of her time, and Narcissa was bouncing on the balls of her feet eagerly.

"Are you ready, Draco?" she asked hurriedly.

He nodded. He desperately wished to ask his mother what the matter was, or why she was so eager to leave the manor, but he refrained. For all he knew, the walls were listening and his mother did not want their conversation to be overheard. Without another word, he followed his mother out of the manor and they headed down the walkway.

For as long as Draco could remember, it had been impossible to apparate inside the gates of the manor. Much like Hogwarts, there was powerful, ancient magic protecting the manor as well as its grounds. Once they passed beyond the boundaries of the magic, they would be able to disapparate.

"Mother," Draco said softly as they made their way away from the house.

"Yes," she replied, hardly more than a whisper.

"You look worried."

Narcissa's response surprised Draco. "Times are stressful and I worry for my family."

Draco glanced over at his mother curiously and saw her staring blankly ahead. Unsure of what he should say, Draco changed the subject.

"Why are we going to Diagon Alley?"

"I am going to Gringotts on your father's behalf. He thinks it would be wise to _move_ some of our estate," she explained before falling silent once more.

Draco had always been on a need to know basis with his parents. Whenever he _needed_ to know something, they would tell him. But until it was essential for him to know something, Draco was often kept in the dark. However, the roles also worked in reverse. Lucius and Narcissa had never been prying parents; Unless they needed information that Draco possessed or needed to know what he was up to, they hardly asked and Draco was not required to give an explanation. This often worked in Draco's favor when he stayed out late or had girls over.

Whatever Lucius's reasoning was wanting to move their money, it was obvious that it was not something Draco needed to know.

Just before they reached the end of the walkway, Narcissa turned and looked at her son. "_I _think it wise that you withdraw your money as well, Draco. Do you have the key to your vault?"

The confusion was clear on Draco's face, but he nodded.

"Good," she said. "Now take hold of my arm."

With a small 'pop', the two Malfoys disappeared.

...x...x...x...

If Draco had ever seen something so sad that it sucked the happiness right out of him, it was Diagon Alley in its present state. If not for the one or two people making their way hurriedly down the Alley, Draco might have assumed it was abandoned. Nearly all the stores were closed; Even though their names remained on signs above the doors, nearly all the windows were boarded up. A few stores, like the Apothecary were still in business but there were no customers. As he and his mother passed the familiar storefronts, Draco felt a sense of uneasiness overcome him. He had so many memories in this Alley, even though the majority of his shopping had been done in Knockturn Alley, and now it was as good as gone.

Gringotts appeared to be the only building in the entire Alley that was doing good business. The white building stood tall and gleamed brightly compared to the abandoned shops around it. Draco followed his mother up the front steps of the bank and into the main hall where the two dozen goblins were working silently at their desks.

Draco had only ever been to Gringotts a few times; He had never had a need for his money, because his parents constantly supplied him with whatever he needed. He looked around curiously at the high, decorated ceilings and only allowed his eyes to settle on the angry looking goblins for a brief moment. To him, they were much like house elves; The only difference was that goblins were not slaves and wore decently tailored clothing. And the fact that goblins were capable of producing magnificent, and indestructible jewelry and weaponry. House elves were pathetic creatures who could not do much of anything.

"My son and I wish to enter our vaults," Narcissa said haughtily to the goblin at the front desk.

The goblin looked them over skeptically for a moment. "Certainly. Baldrod will escort you."

A goblin tottered around the edge of the desk. He was the same height as all the other goblins, with the top of his head barely reaching Draco's thigh. He had thin, black hair that was slicked back on his bulbous head and a large, hooked nose.

"This way," he croaked.

The ride to the vaults was Draco's favorite part of visiting Gringotts. It was like flying... sort of... in the fact that the wind rushed passed them and blew through their hair. The only difference, and the part that he most enjoyed, was the element of surprise. With flying, you are always in control of the broom and there are never any surprise drops or jerks. With riding in the Gringott's cart, you were constantly jerked this way and that, and you were never ready for when the cart suddenly plummeted several stories in an instant. He enjoyed the feeling of almost weightlessness, when his stomach felt as though it had leaped into his chest. It was, more or less, fun.

They first stopped at his parents vault, and Draco waited patiently in the cart. He did not need to accompany his mother to know that their vault was probably filled to maximum capacity with mounds of galleons and other precious treasure. After all, the fortune had been growing for several generations. To his surprise, Narcissa did not withdraw anything, but instead made orders to the goblin, pointing to certain piles and talking with her hands. Draco assumed that his parents were opening another vault, into which they would move some of their riches, but he could not be sure. Nor did he care to know at the moment. He was growing eager to set foot in his own vault.

Draco's vault was not as heavily guarded as that of his parents, and was located several stories up from theirs. After making an impressive climb, the cart came to a screeching halt, and Draco followed the goblin onto the ledge where his vault was located. Narcissa followed quietly at his heels. Together, they waited while the goblin placed Draco's key in the lock, turned it, and stepped back.

After a series of soft clicking noises, the door swung outward to reveal a handsome collection of gold. Draco smiled smugly, pleased to know that his small fortune was still truly his, and was about to step forward when his mother's hand landed gracefully on his shoulder.

"Did you bring something to carry your money?" she asked, quietly.

Draco nodded, his hand gripped around a draw-string, leather pouch. Before leaving the manor, he had placed an undetectable extension charm on the bag, with the expectation of leaving Gringotts with a considerably larger amount of gold than the pouch would have originally held.

He stepped into the vault alone, eying with curiosity the enormous mounds of gold surrounding him. He knelt next to the closest pile of coins and, after untying the bag, began to shove handful after handful of gold into it. He worked diligently, eager to cram as much of his fortune into the bag that he could manage.

However, as the pile began to disappear, Draco grew worried. It was not safe to carry so much money around with him at one time. What if he was mugged? What if he lost the pouch? No, it was not safe at all. The first chance he got after returning to the manor, he would find somewhere else to hide his gold.

After several minutes, Draco stood to admire his progress. There was still an impressive amount of gold in the vault, but he could now see the bare floor on the far side.

_It'll have to do, _he thought to himself. He had no idea what he could possibly need so much gold for, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to find out.

...x...x...x...

It had been three days since Hermione sent out her patronuses, and she had still not received word from any of her friends. With every passing hour she grew more worrisome. Why had they not replied? Why had no one come to Grimmauld Place by now? Had they all gone into hiding? Had something happened to them all?

Hermione was bombarded by so many questions, and she was running out of things to do at the house to distract herself. She had tried cleaning, but the job seemed never ending. She had then set to making a to-do list, but everything on the list depended on her finding out if anyone was still alive. The solitude, along with not knowing what was going on in the wizarding world, was going to drive her mad.

If she could just get her hands on a copy of the Daily Prophet... then she would have a slight idea of what was going on. But if she so much as showed her face at the Ministry or Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley, she would be killed. It was more than common knowledge that she was a muggleborn, and she highly doubted that Voldemort's search for the muggleborns had waned in the slightest, even though he now had control of the wizarding world.

She could always try a bit of self transfiguration again. All she needed was a few minutes to find out what she needed to know, and at the first sign of trouble, she could always apparate.

The idea was starting to sound more and more promising. After debating the pros and cons for a few hours, Hermione finally decided that it was worth the risk. The following morning, she would go out, get a copy of the Prophet, and find out all the information she could.

At least, that was the plan.

Hermione found it hard to get to sleep that night. She would drift off for a short while, before hearing a noise that frightened her out of her dream. Most of the time it was just the creaking of the building, but she could have sworn one time that she heard a rat scurry along the hallway outside... she hoped it was a rat.

Sometime around five in the morning, after Hermione had finally managed a few hours of consecutive sleep, there was a loud 'bang' downstairs. Almost instantly, Hermione shot upright in the bed and her hand found its way to her wand. The sound had been far too loud to belong to a rat, or even a cat for that matter.

Someone had arrived to Grimmauld Place.

Hermione inched her way to the door, her breathing heavy. She had left her shoes under the bed for fear of making too much noise, and she placed a silencing charm on the door as she opened it. The hallway was dark and appeared undisturbed. Swallowing her fear, Hermione slowly paced the length of the hall with her wand outstretched in front of her.

The only sound she could hear was her breathing, which she tried without success to stifle. Hermione made it to the base of the stairs without making a noise and slowly peered around the corner into the kitchen. She saw a dark form, probably her size, hovering at the end of the table. At the sight of a stranger in the house, Hermione quickly shrank back behind the wall. Her heart was slamming uncontrollably in her chest and she could feel a shot of adrenaline bursting through her veins.

After she had collected herself, Hermione stepped into the doorway, her wand stretched out in front of her.

"Drop your wand!" she yelled at the stranger.

The form at the other end of the table froze immediately and turned to face Hermione. Although the kitchen was dark, Hermione could see the outline of the person's face.

"Hermione?" the figure called, her voice unmistakable.

Hermione squinted into the dim light; She could now see the person's familiar red hair and smiling face.

"Ginny?" she asked breathlessly. "Wait... how do I know it's really you?"

"My name is Ginevra Molly Weasley. My birthday is August 11, my favorite color is turquoise, and I have an owl named Pig..."

Ginny, who had intended to continue her list of identifying qualities of herself, was surprised when Hermione broke into a sprint and embraced her where she stood.

"I'm so glad to see you," Hermione breathed softly. "I've been so worried. What happened to everyone?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you... But you'll have to," Ginny grinned.


	7. Ginny's Tale

Finding the Cloak of Invisibility had been almost too good to be true, yet Ginny had found it. She was so overwhelmed by its presence that she had spent several long minutes simply gazing at it in her hands, not wanting to move or think or breathe. This was her way to escape; Without a wand, she was defenseless, but at least the Cloak would provide her with some type of protection.

But for Ginny, it was so much more than protection. The Cloak of Invisibility had belonged to Harry Potter. _Her_ Harry. It was the last connection she would ever have to him now that he was gone. As painful as it was for her to imagine, she was certain that Harry had taken the cloak when he went to confront Voldemort in the forest. _He must have discarded it when they came face to face..._

She closed her eyes and could almost imagine him creeping through the forest beneath the cloak and she felt a pang of pain in her chest. She missed him so much already. As she ran her hand softly over the material, memories of her and Harry flashed through her mind like a slideshow: Harry visiting her house for the first time the summer before she started at Hogwarts, Harry saving her in the Chamber of Secrets, watching him compete in the Triwizard Tournament, playing alongside him on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, their first kiss...

Her eyes stung with tears as she pulled the cloak on.

Ginny made her way through the forest, her destination still being Hogsmeade. She quietly hoped that she might find Aberforth, or some of the other survivors convening there, but she knew it was highly unlikely. If anything, she would find Hogsmeade overrun by Death Eaters or destroyed altogether.

She encountered no one in the woods, which was almost as much of a surprise to her as finding the Cloak of Invisibility. Had no one else thought to hide in the woods? Or had they all managed to get outside the boundaries to disapparate?

After what seemed like ages, Ginny arrived at Hogsmeade. There were several figures, robed in black, making their way through the village. They appeared to be traveling in pairs or groups of three as they made their way down the alleyways and into the small shops. It appeared to Ginny that they were searching... probably for muggleborns and blood traitors.

Although she was invisible, Ginny avoided the main street running through the village as much as possible. Where she could, she traveled behind the buildings, making her way to Aberforth's house. She was hoping with all her might that she would find him, or anyone, that she could escape with. Without her wand, she was completely stranded, and the idea of walking all the way to London was less than compelling.

Ginny found herself on the doorstep to the Hog's Head a few moments later, waiting patiently for a group of Death Eaters to pass by. After all, it would clearly draw attention if the bar door opened and closed by itself. As soon as they disappeared, she twisted the door handle and slipped inside the bar, hoping with all her might that no one would be waiting inside.

To her relief, the bar was completely empty, as it usually was. After checking and double checking, Ginny scrambled across the bar to the stairs and hurried up them to the flat where she knew Abertforth's apartment was located.

She opened the door nervously, not knowing what to expect, and was relieved to find it exactly the way she remembered it. The room was small and dark, and the picture of Aberforth's sister adorned the wall to her right. Ginny pulled off the hood of the Cloak so that her body remained invisible, but her head now floated mysteriously in midair. Eagerly, she crossed the room to the portrait of Ariana and reached up to touch it.

Her heart dropped when her hand felt the rough canvas of the painting. It was no longer a passageway to Hogwarts, but simply a painting. What could have happened to the Room of Requirement to make the passageway disappear?

And then she heard footsteps: quick, heavy steps making their way closer to Aberforth's apartment. Ginny pulled the hood over her head quickly and stepped close to the wall, her eyes fixed on the door to the apartment. Perhaps a Death Eater had actually seen her enter the Hog's Head.

Ginny was already planning the way to best attack the intruder when the door swung open quickly and a large form entered the room. He had long gray hair that matched his beard and piercing blue eyes.

"ABERFORTH!" Ginny squeaked in delight.

Aberforth paused and stretched out his wand.

"Who's there? Show yourself!"

Ginny quickly lowered the hood of the Cloak once more and stepped into the light.

"Miss Weasley," Aberforth said as he recognized her. "What are you still doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question," Ginny replied shortly, before taking a deep breath. She didn't have time to explain everything that had happened, but Aberforth needed to know the basics, especially if he was to help her. "I lost my wand back at the castle and ran into the forest. I can't leave because I can't apparate. I can here looking for you, or anyone, that can help me."

Aberforth looked at Ginny with a great deal of worry in his eyes. He too had to escape, to get away from Hogsmeade, but he could not leave the girl here to an unfortunate fate.

"Very well," he said, making his way across the room. "We don't have long. I presume there will be Death Eaters here at any moment. They're checking everywhere for those who fled from the castle."

Ginny watched as Aberforth swept around the room, tossing his belongings into a rucksack.

"Did you see anyone else?" Ginny choked, not sure if she wanted to know the answer or not.

The man sighed. "The last time I saw your brother he was fighting with someone on the grounds. I would have stopped to help but I had two younger students with me that I had to get outside the wards of the school so that they could apparate."

Ginny sighed, deeply unsettled but determined to remain optimistic. At least Ron had been alive the last time Aberforth had seen him.

"Come with me," he said, heading back toward the front door. "It might be best to put that Cloak back on."

"But Mr. Dumbledore," Ginny protested, "Can we not disapparate inside your apartment."

He looked back at her for a moment. "We could. But you need a wand, and there's only one way to get one at the moment."

Ginny followed Aberforth down the stairs and into the salon of the Hog's Head. She kept the Cloak drawn tightly around her so that she could break into a run at any moment if she needed to. He watched from the bar window as a group of Death Eaters passed by.

"Our best bet is going to be to take two of them, because none of them are traveling alone," Aberforth explained in a hushed voice. "Now's our chance, come on."

He led the way out of the bar behind a pair of Death Eaters, Ginny at his heels. Without a word, Aberforth cast his spells, and jets of green lights hit the Death Eaters in the back. Ginny's eyes grew wide in horror as the pair slumped to the ground and did not move. Aberforth knelt next to the bodies and relieved them of their wands.

As he turned to hand one of them to Ginny, they were spotted by another group of Death Eaters.

"You there!" One of them called. "Drop your wand!"

Aberforth looked up just in time to avoid a spell hitting him in the chest; He jumped to one side and sent a spell flying.

"Take the wand," he said to Ginny, holding it in his outstretched hand.

Ginny obeyed, and did not need an invitation to attack the oncoming Death Eaters. She sent several hexes soaring out of her new wand, of which only one managed to hit a Death Eater. Aberforth managed to hit another.

"Give me your hand!" Ginny said, reaching for Aberforth.

Aberforth grabbed hold of Ginny and sent a final killing curse toward the group of Death Eaters before the two of them disapparated with a 'pop'.

Ginny landed unsteadily on the hillside, but Aberforth helped to steady her. Looking out, they could see a stretch of beach on which sat a lonely cottage. Ginny took a deep breath of salty air; They had escaped!

"Thank you, Mr. Dumbledore," Ginny said, looking at her companion.

He bowed his head. "You're welcome Miss Weasley. Now I recommend that you get yourself to a safe location and you lay low for a while. They won't give up easily on searching for those who oppose You-Know-Who."

"Where will you go?" Ginny asked sadly. She had hoped Aberforth might stay for a while at Shell Cottage; Surely Bill and Fleur wouldn't mind his company.

"North," he answered. "My cousin owns a bit of land up there. From there, as far away from London as possible."

"Good luck," she said, not being able to think of anything else to say.

"Good luck to you as well. Stay safe. Stay alive," he said. And with those last words, he disappeared.

Ginny half walked, half ran to the cottage. Her excitement was growing, swelling in her chest with every passing second and threatening to explode. She wanted desperately to see the faces of those she loved: her mum and dad, Bill, Fleur, Charlie, George, Percy, Ron. Perhaps even Hermione had made it as well.

Ginny burst through the door, expecting to see a room full of faces smiling back at her. However, that was not the case. The greeting room was completely empty and undisturbed.

"Hello?" Her voice cracked as she called out.

It was then that she heard footsteps. Reflexively, she withdrew her new wand and pointed it toward the hallway. She waited for a moment, her pulse pounding in her head like a drum, until a slender, red-headed figure appeared around the corner.

"Bill!" Ginny said with relief as she ran into his arms.

"Ginny," he said, as though trying to convince himself that she was real. He then called into the rest of the house, "It's Ginny!"

The sound of hurried footsteps grew louder until Fleur and George spilled into the greeting room.

"Ginny!" they said in unison, both waiting their turn to embrace her.

Ginny looked around worriedly; She had expected to see more of her family.

"Where is everyone else?" she asked.

"Mum and dad are at Auntie Muriel's," Bill said. "Charlie apparated to Romania to spread the word; After all, the Daily Prophet isn't going to publish all the details."

"What about Percy and Ron?" she asked.

"As far as we know they're safe. They sent a message earlier, but they didn't say where they were at."

"And Hermione?"

Bill and George exchanged uneasy looks.

"No one has heard from her," George said carefully.

Ginny's heart felt deflated. Hermione was not related to her by blood, but she was as close as family. Ginny suddenly felt light-headed and needed to sit down.

She spent the better part of the next hour telling how she escaped from the castle, how she happened upon the Cloak of Invisibility, and how she finally escaped with Aberforth after he had obtained her a wand.

"That sure was noble of him," George commented. "And then he left, just like that?"

Ginny nodded. "He said he was headed North."

"He's got the right idea," Bill said. "We're all heading to France in the morning to stay with Fleur's parents until this calms down a bit. You should come with us."

Ginny furrowed her brow as she met each of their eyes. "You're leaving?"

"We can't stay here," Fleur piped. "It iz far too dangerous."

Ginny looked back at Bill, who was frowning slightly. "So that's it then? We're just giving up?"

"What choice do we have, Gin?" he asked softly.

"We tried, Ginny," George said. "And we gave it our bloody best. But it wasn't enough."

Ginny huffed. "And if we quit now, everyone will have died in vain. Lupin, Tonks, Fred, Harry…"

"Enough, Gin," Bill said. "We're leaving in the morning. You're welcome to come with us, but I won't force you to."

Just as they had promised, Bill, Fleur, and George were up early the next morning, packing what things they planned to take and getting ready to say goodbye. Ginny had stubbornly disagreed to accompany them. She had far too many things to take care of here; Harry had confided in her about Voldemort's horcruxes and how to destroy them. Even if her family members refused to continue the fight, Ginny would not rest until Voldemort was destroyed. She felt in every fiber of her being that staying and going after him was what she was meant to do.

It was with a heavy heart that she bade farewell to her brothers and her sister-in-law. She hated to see them go, and she hated the idea of being alone at Shell Cottage, but at least she knew where her parents were; If she wanted to, she could easily apparate to Auntie Muriel's now that she had a wand at her disposal.

Ginny spent the entire day at Shell Cottage. There was plenty of food for her to eat and the Fidelius Charm was in place, therefore, it was safe. That afternoon, she watched the sun settle over the horizon, turning both the sky and the sea into a collage of oranges and purples. She was beginning to think she could stay there forever.

Ginny slept in the living room that night after finding a spare blanket in the upstairs closet; She didn't feel right sleeping in any of the beds. She was dreaming peacefully of playing Quidditch when a strange light woke her. She blinked hard several times to focus her vision and almost leaped off the sofa when she saw a pearly, white patronus in the shape of an otter standing on the coffee table.

She watched as the otter's mouth opened and relayed a simple message in Hermione's voice.

"Sanctuary at Harry's."

…x…x…x…

Hermione had listened intently throughout Ginny's entire story, her heart racing nearly the entire time.

"After I got your patronus, I couldn't get back to sleep. So, I packed a few things, and came straight here," Ginny said.

"Do you have any idea what's going on?" Hermione asked.

"The Ministry is completely under You-Know-Who's control," Ginny said. "Bill said he's pretty sure they are still watching all Floo networks as well as portkeys for muggleborns and blood traitors who are trying to flee. You-Know-Who's name is still tabooed, and he's taken over Hogwarts."

Hermione shook her head. "It's a good thing you got here when you did."

"I've been known for my impeccable timing," Ginny smiled. "But why is that so?"

"Because we can get a lot of information with that Cloak," Hermione said, gesturing to the Cloak of Invisibility.


	8. Patronuses

Dinner had been an unusually enjoyable affair for Draco beings that Voldemort was not in attendance. In fact, the dinner hall, to the Malfoy family's relief, was rather empty that evening; Draco, his parents, and Bellatrix were accompanied only by the Macnair and the Zabini families. It was honestly a breath of fresh air for all of them.

Conversation was casual, but scarce; It was a much more relaxed atmosphere than when Voldemort was present, but there was still a sense of tension throughout the room, as though at any moment the Dark Lord would come waltzing into the hall. From the bits of conversation Draco overheard, Voldemort was traveling and would not be back for several days. This only fueled Draco's good mood.

Throughout dinner, Draco couldn't help but feel that things were almost normal. It was hard for him to even remember what 'normal' was like, but as he joked with his best friend Blaise across the table, he was overcome with nostalgia. Before Voldemort's return, these kind of dinners were a common thing at the manor: his family, with a few friends, and a wonderful meal. And although his family was there, along with his friends, and the food was superb as usual, it was still.. different.

The sense of almost-normalcy Draco got from that meal carried with him as he returned to his bedchamber. He took his time, enjoying a well-needed stroll throughout the manor before settling into his room for the night. He showered and dressed himself in night pants before deciding to crawl in bed with a book; It was a novel he had borrowed from Pansy Parkinson, but had never returned.

At least, that's what he would have done had he not been distracted by the light outside his window.

Draco's bedchamber was on the second floor and had an immaculate view overlooking a large garden with high hedges and a golden fountain. Various types of exotic flowers were grown there, providing colorful scenery in the daytime, and his father's white peacocks spent most of their time there. He had specifically chosen to make this room his own because of the garden view (and the enormous bathroom that made him feel like pure royalty). At the moment, the garden was dark, illuminated only by the moonlight, but something stood glimmering among the hedges.

At first, Draco thought it might be one of their house guests taking a late-night stroll, but after watching it for several minutes, Draco determined that it was too low to the ground to be any person. He watched it for a while longer, unable to pry himself away from the glass, as the glowing form crossed the garden and dove into the fountain.

Draco's eyes grew wide. _What the bloody hell is that?_

Whatever it was, it was swirling around inside the fountain, making the water glow mysteriously. Draco turned away from the glass in an attempt to shake the strange light from his mind, but his curiosity was already raging out of control. He had to know what it was. He _had_ to.. or it would drive him mad.

He hastily pulled on a coat and grabbed his wand before darting out the door. The night air was cool, but Draco hardly noticed as he sprinted down the walkway that wound its way through the garden. He slowed as he approached the fountain, his wand outstretched in front of him like a weapon.

The trickling water of the fountain was the only sound in the garden; The water started at a base several feet above Draco's head and trickled down to subsequent levels to the final bowl, which currently glowed a pearly white color. He peered over the rim, his wand still held at the ready, and saw the form of a pearly white animal swimming around in the water. It rolled over and twirled as it swam, seemingly oblivious to Draco's presence.

Draco warily crouched next to the fountain, hesitant to disturb the creature, and dipped his fingers in the water. Immediately, he was overcome by a sense of calmness and he found himself feeling... happy. He was no longer afraid of the animal, if he had been afraid to begin with. He knew that it meant him no harm.

The animal suddenly burst forth from the water without disturbing the surface and landed gracefully on the edge of the fountain and in front of Draco's face. It was unmistakeably a patronus in the form of an otter. He watched as it opened its mouth and spoke to him in a soft, familiar voice:

"Sanctuary at Harry's."

That voice... He knew that voice... The blood rushed from Draco's face as he realized who it was that had sent him this patronus: _Granger._

She was alive! More importantly, she was safe.

_Safe? Why the bloody hell should I care if she's safe?_

And yet, Draco was relieved to know that she was safe. He had pondered and pondered this feeling, and had no explanation for it. Why the bloody hell did he care at all if she was alive, safe, or dead? It made no difference to him. But maybe it had nothing to do with Granger. Perhaps it was the fact that she had proved that escape was possible. Yes, that had to be it! If he had gone with her, he too would have been safe. He would have no longer been under Voldemort's control. He would have been free!

Draco had tried to forget Granger's message, but the image of the patronus was burned into his mind; This only fueled his desire to escape. If he could get out, and get to wherever Granger was, he would be safe... at least for a while. But where the hell was she?

Why had he never thought to ask _where_ Harry's house was as they were escaping the castle? He had, at least for a moment, considered following her, and yet he had not been at all interested in _where_ he was following her to? And how in the name of Merlin was he supposed to contact her? The owls were being intercepted as the Ministry continued to search for mudbloods and blood traitors and any form of magical communication would rely on him knowing her location.

_'Patronuses'_ he thought as he recalled Granger's suggestion. She had sent him one, which meant that it was possible, but how the bloody hell did he conjure one? He had never had a need to conjure a patronus before, and up until Granger's had arrived, he had no idea that patronuses could be used for communication. He knew the incantation, but he also knew there was much more than mere words to conjuring a spell, especially one so complex.

He wanted to respond, if only to ask where Harry's house was. It wasn't because he cared if Granger was safe. He cared because it could just prove to be his way out.

It was his desire to escape, and ONLY that reason that he found himself in the family library one afternoon. It was a modest-sized room, with all four walls lined from floor to ceiling with books. To Draco's knowledge, no one ever entered this room - he himself had stumbled upon it by accident as a child when he was hiding from Lucius. It was kept clean, just like every other room in the manor, by the house elves; Otherwise, it would have been inches deep in dust.

Draco scanned the spines of the books, reading their titles and trying to determine which might contain information regarding patronuses. To Draco's surprise and luck, he soon found that the books were organized by subject.

_'Thank the Gods!'_

One wall (from what he could tell) was comprised of novels - everything from nonfiction to romance, so he skipped that wall altogether. The wall opposite the door had a large section of school textbooks, and he decided to start looking there first.

He withdrew a book from the shelf titles Charming Charms and flipped through the pages. He arrived at the index and searched eagerly through the P's, however, 'patronus' was no where to be found. He cursed, slammed the book shut, and replaced it on the shelf to continue looking.

Book after book, Draco searched for information about Patronuses, but he kept coming up short. He was growing frustrated - surely one of these bloody books had the information he sought.

He finally stumbled upon a description after climbing in the reading chair to reach The Standard Book of Spells.

_This ancient and mysterious charm conjures a magical guardian, a projection of all your most positive feelings. The Patronus Charm is difficult, and many witches and wizards are unable to produce a full, corporeal Patronus, a guardian which generally takes the shape of the animal with whom they share the deepest affinity. You may suspect, but you will never truly know what form your Patronus will take until you succeed in conjuring it._

"Well that's a lot of bloody fucking help," Draco groaned.

He continued reading, soaking in the words from the page. If there was one thing Draco Malfoy was not, it was a quitter.

...x...x...x...

"Harry told me about the horcruxes," Ginny admitted. "He said that You-Know-Who's snake is the last one."

Hermione nodded. "That's right. If we kill the snake, we kill You-Know-Who."

"That sounds easy enough," Ginny answered.

Hermione shook her head. "About as easy as running across a mine field."

Ginny furrowed her brow in confusion, clearly not understanding Hermione's muggle reference.

"Mines are explosives hidden underground," Hermione explained, slightly embarrassed. "If you step on one they explode, but you never know where one might be."

Ginny still looked slightly confused. "So... not very easy?"

Hermione giggled. "First thing's first, we have to explore our options. Did Harry tell you how to kill the snake?"

"He said the sword of Gryffindor could do it," she said, trying to recall as Hermione pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill.

"Did he tell you why?" Hermione asked.

Ginny shook her head. "The only thing that can destroy a horcrux is something that can put it beyond magical repair. The only things we've been able to find are basilisk vemon, and Fiendfyre. The sword of Gryffindor is empregnated with basilisk venom, which is why Harry told you about it."

"But where could the sword of Gryffindor be?" Ginny asked.

"We traded it to a goblin for one of the horcruxes. It could be anywhere."

"I've never used Fiendfyre, but I've heard it's a pretty nasty curse," Ginny admitted.

"Yeah," Hermione said numbly as she recalled the Room of Requirement. "It is."

"But the sword will present itself to a worthy Gryffindor," Ginny recalled. "We just have to be worthy."

Hermione shrugged. "But the sword's only presented itself twice - and both times it showed itself to Harry."

Seeing the hurt look in Ginyny's eye, Hermione quickly changed the subject. "Another problem is getting close enough to the snake to attack it. Obviously it's going to be with You-Know-Who, and we're no match for him, especially now that he has the Elder Wand."

"The Elder Wand?" Ginny questioned.

"One of the Deathly Hallows," she explained.

"You mean the story of the Three Brothers is real?" Ginny asked in amazement. "The Hallows are real? I thought they were just an old story mum used to tell us."

Hermione nodded. "I'm afraid so. The Cloak of Invisibility you have is another of the Hallows."

"We're going to need help."

"But who will help us? Almost everyone has gone into hiding. Your family is out of the country - well, most of them."

"Let's see who else gets your patronuses," Ginny suggested. "Someone may answer."


	9. Draco's Revelation

_'A happy memory,'_ Draco thought.

How bloody hard could that be? After all, he didn't have many of those. Holding his wand out in front of him, he began to focus on a single happy memory. He imagined standing atop the Eiffel Tower when he was nine years old, the wind in his hair, and the sun shining gloriously over Paris. He felt on top of the world, much like a king might feel. The corner of his mouth curled into a smile.

"Expecto... Patronum," Draco enunciated.

Nothing happened. Then again, he hadn't really expected it to on his first try. Nervously, he glanced around the room and listened for a moment. He half-expected every death eater in the building to come running, but he had yet to hear any footprints.

_'Conviction,'_ Draco recalled from his readings.

He decided to focus on another memory - the day his father bought Firebolts for the entire Slytherin Quidditch team. Everyone went on and on about how Draco had the coolest father in London, and it had given Draco such a fulfilling feeling. He was everyone's best friend that day, and for the remainder of the term.

"Expecto Patronum," Draco said, louder this time.

Again, nothing happened. Draco huffed. He had never had a problem with producing spells; If it wasn't for Mudblood Know-It-All Granger, he would have been at the top of the class. But for some reason, he was unable to produce a bloody patronus.

_'Happy memory, conviction, noble intentions,' _Draco thought, racking his brain for any information he might have left out.

He bit into a cauldron cake and continued to ponder his inabilities. It was then that another happy memory came to him, and he almost choked. The feeling he had gotten when he escaped Hogwarts with Granger... he had _escaped_. He was free. For all he knew, everyone would think he had died in the castle. An enormous weight had suddenly been lifted off his shoulders.

Draco smiled. The feeling of freedom had been such an elation. _That_ was the memory he would use. He raised his wand once more.

"Expecto Patronum," he chanted, focusing more and more on the excitement, and relief, and happiness he had felt in that moment.

"Expecto Patronum... Expecto Patronum..."

And then, he saw it! A sliver of silver erupted from the end of his wand and his heart hammered hard in his chest. It was far from a corporeal patronus, or even a non-corporeal one for that matter, but Draco had seen it with his own two eyes.

_'I can do this!'_ he thought optimistically.

However, more practice would have to wait. He was feeling very faint, as thought the spell had sucked the energy right out of him.

...x...x...x...

"What exactly are we looking for?" Ginny whispered.

They had been standing outside the entrance to the Ministry of Magic, the same entrance that Hermione, Harry, and Ron had used to break in the Ministry several months ago. They were both posed beneath the Cloak of Invisibility, and standing rather closely to the building so that no one accidentally knocked into them.

"Anything," Hermione replied in a hushed voice. "We just need an idea of what's going on. A copy of the Prophet will do."

They waited for nearly an hour outside the entrance, catching fragments of conversation, but nothing meaningful.

"...the kids are safe and out of the country..."

"...I forgot to feed the cat this morning..."

"...my wife packed a horrible lunch - says she's putting me on a diet..."

Finally, as they were about to give up scouting for the day, Hermione was able to nip a copy of the Daily Prophet from a woman's bag as she passed. The date was from two days ago, but it was better than anything they had.

"Let's go," Hermione said.

...x...x...x...

Draco's eyes shot open. A blood-curdling scream had echoed through the manor, jolting him awake. At first he thought he was dreaming until he heard it again.

Adrenaline pumping, he leaped from his bed, grabbing his wand off of the bedside table, and darted into the corridor. He ran in the direction of the screams, which he determined to be somewhere downstairs. What the bloody hell was going on to cause such a raucous, especially at this ungodly hour of the morning? But the more pressing question in Draco's mind was '_Who_ could be causing such a noise'?

Draco halted when he stepped into the entrance hall of the manor and saw Voldemort standing in its middle. Three forms lay sprawled on the floor at his feet, none of them moving. Bellatrix, accompanied by three snatchers, stood at the other side of the hall watching eagerly as Voldemort interrogated his victims. Bellatrix flashed her nephew a pleased smile, before turning her attention back to the scene before them.

Reluctantly, Draco looked away from the Dark Lord to the three individuals. They all appeared young, no older than himself, and it was obvious they had been tortured. Of the three, one of the individuals was female. She laid face down, her long brown hair covering her face, making it impossible for Draco to identify her. From his distance, he could barely hear her sobbing.

Draco swallowed hard; He recognized the two males, both of whom had attended Hogwarts with him. He could not recall what houses they belonged to, or their names at the moment, but he knew their faces. Had his focus not been on the girl, he might have been able to recall...

"I will ask you a final time," Voldemort hissed, his voice sending a chill down Draco's spine. "Where are the others?"

"Good will always conquer evil," one of the boys choked. "Dumbledore's Army forever!"

Draco watched as a most malicious smile formed on Voldemort's snakelike face.

"Crucio!" he spat.

Once again, a blood-curdling scream rang out. This time, it caused goose bumps to raise on Draco's arm. He could hardly watch as the girl writhed in pain, and continued to scream.

"Fools," he said, pointing his wand down at them. "May you die knowing that your precious Dumbledore and your Chosen One could not defeat me. Join them."

Streams of green light shot from Voldemort's wand and the three students on the floor were dead. Draco bit his bottom lip.

Voldemort did not acknowledge Draco's presence, but disappeared with Bellatrix into the drawing room. Rather, Bellatrix followed at his heels like a lost dog as he exited the entrance hall. As soon as the door closed, Draco crossed the room to where the dead bodies laid and crouched beside them.

He took a nervous breath and reached to move the hair away from the girl's face. She had thin brows, full lips, and freckles. He exhaled deeply and almost laughed with relief. It wasn't Granger.

"Draco?" Lucius Malfoy's unmistakeable voice came from behind him.

Draco's heart leaped in his chest and he spun quickly on his heel. His father was eying him curiously, clearly expecting an explanation as to what he was doing bothering with a dead body. After all, there had been countless dead bodies in the mansion over the last few months. He himself had even killed a few at Voldemort's orders; He should have been immune to the sight by now.

"What are you doing?" he asked when his son did not offer an immediate explanation.

Draco swallowed hard. "Erm- I was just..."

Lucius Malfoy joined his son next to the three bodies and nudged one with his foot.

"I was just wondering who was going to dispose of these," Draco said as dryly as he could manage.

Lucius scrunched up his nose. "The elves will get them. Now, run along Draco."

Draco did not have to be told twice. He turned on his heel and walked as quickly toward his bedchamber as he could without raising his father's suspicion. The moment his bedchamber door closed behind him, he exhaled a deep breath and buried his face in his hands. What the bloody hell was going on with him?

He felt sick.

Despite trying, he could could not forget that which he had just seen: three of Voldemort's newest victims. Something irked him about them, and he could not shake his uneasiness.

How could he have ever seen killing as a just form of punishment? To end someone's life, to end their existence. No one, except in possibly extreme cases, deserved to suffer such a cruel fate. None of those people laying dead downstairs would ever grow old, get married, or have children. They would never see their parents, or their families, again. They would never have another meal. They would never do anything ever again.

Draco tasted bile.

What would his father think if he knew the things running through Draco's mind at this moment? Draco Malfoy, son of one of the most feared death eaters in the world; He had everything he could ever want: money, the finest clothing, a mansion, and more power in his name than most of the wizarding world. He lived a life of luxury, and was never troubled by trivial things, yet here he was troubled by the execution of three strangers.

What in the name of Merlin's left saggy ball was wrong with him?

Draco squeezed his eyes shut. His head pounded. His palms were sweaty. He backed against the wall and slumped to the floor, fighting the urge to faint.

Why had it taken him so long to realize that Voldemort was a sick fuck who murdered like it was a sport? Hell, if anyone deserved to suffer such a horrible fate, it was the Dark Lord himself.

And that was when it finally clicked for Draco. He had to leave; There was no way he could possible spend another godforsaken night in this mansion knowing that Voldemort was only a short step away from where he slept. If Voldemort so much as suspected that Draco was experiencing the blasphemous thoughts that were going through his mind, he would be dead. Dead, like the victims downstairs. Dead, like Harry.

No. He had to escape.

_But where to?_ he thought. The only safe place he knew of was with Granger, and he couldn't even manage to conjure a bloody patronus!

He opened his eyes; An idea had suddenly occurred to him, and he had nervous butterflies. It was such a simple idea, that he feared it would not work. But he had to try. He drew his wand, allowing a single, happy thought to overcome and engulf him like a tide. It was such an incredible thought, that he couldn't fathom why it had never occurred to him before. He waited until the happy feeling had spread from his chest, to the tips of his toes, to his hand that was currently outstretched and gripping his wand.

"Expecto Patronum," Draco chanted focusing all his might on the excitement swelling in his chest.

"Expecto Patronum," he said, moving his wand in a circular motion because it felt like the right thing to do.

Silver light burst forth from the end of the wand. Upon seeing his success, Draco clambered to his feet and continued to speak the incantation.

"Expecto Patronum!" he said, this time much louder than he had intended.

He watched in disbelief and excitement as a white figure emerged from the end of his wand, first its head, followed quickly by a body. It grew in size, taking shape before Draco's very eyes until it rose to its full height. With pearly white eyes, the animal gazed at Draco and waited for his instructions.

Draco sank to his knees before the patronus, feeling weak but he had never been more proud of himself.

"Bloody hell," he whispered and took a deep breath. _Let's hope this works_.

He thought hard for a moment. In the days he had spent studying patronuses, he had never imagined what he might say to Granger in the event that he managed to conjure one. It had to be simple, but specific. Encoded, but decipherable.

"Meet me tonight where we ditched our brooms. Come alone."

As soon as he ended his message, the patronus stalked across the room and disappeared through the wall. Exhausted, Draco stumbled to the window in time to see the animal squeeze its way through the hedges and disappear.

"Gods, I hope this works."


	10. Rescue

Hermione and Ginny had resolved to wait until the weekend before they took any kind of action; They both agreed that it was better to wait and see if anyone responded to Hermione's patronuses before they tried to do anything on their own. A response finally came, both a relief and an utter shock, halfway through the week.

Ginny was attempting to cook breakfast while Hermione made her way through the upstairs, cleaning what she could. She had managed to get all the cobwebs out of the hallway and one of the bedrooms, but cleaning was such a daunting task that she wondered why she even bothered. She had just decided to take a break when she heard Ginny scream downstairs.

"Hermione!"

Her heart stopped. Had someone found their hiding place? Was Ginny in trouble? She raced downstairs, quickly regaining her balance when she tripped on the stairs. She wondered in terror what she would find when she arrived to the kitchen.

"Ginny!" she called worriedly.

"Hermione, hurry!"

She skidded to a halt in the doorway and her eyes fell on a silvery, white animal positioned in the middle of the table.

"It's a patronus," Ginny breathed in awe.

A patronus, indeed it was, but Hermione had no idea who it could belong to. It was a three foot tall peacock, who had its tail feathers displayed proudly. It eyed Hermione for a moment before opening its beak.

"Meet me tonight where we ditched our brooms. Come alone."

Hermione's mouth fell open in disbelief. She immediately knew who it was without even recognizing the voice. _'Where we ditched our brooms.'_ It was obvious who the patronus belonged to.

"Hermione?" Ginny asked her blank-stared friend. "What is it? Whose patronus is it?"

"There's something I haven't told you," Hermione said softly, as she looked over at her friend. "When I escaped from the castle, I didn't escape alone. I escaped with Draco Malfoy."

Ginny's eyes grew as large as saucers. "What?"

Hermione cleared her throat uncomfortably. "Malfoy helped me get out; He said he wanted to escape as well. But before we could disapparate together, he changed his mind and went back to the castle."

Ginny looked as though she had smelled something foul. "Please tell me you're joking."

"I wish I was," Hermione shrugged. "I didn't believe it myself. I thought he was going to turn me in or kill me, but he even dueled Bellatrix so we could escape."

"He _dueled_ Bellatrix and he's still alive?"

Hermione smirked. "He also wiped her memory."

"Oh my Godric," Ginny laughed in disbelief. "And now he wants to meet with you? Hermione, you can't go! It could be a trap!"

Hermione's mouth sagged into a frown.

"I told him to send a patronus if he changed his mind," she explained. "Besides, we need all the help we can get."

Ginny shook her head. "Hermione, it's Malfoy. You know, muggle-born hating git who has done nothing but make your life hell the last seven years; Malfoy whose father is a death eater; Malfoy who could just turn you over for some kind of reward. You can't be serious."

Hermione looked at her. "I know it seems unbelievable, but he seemed as scared as we are. In desperate situations, people make desperate choices, and I think he finally wants out. Harry saved him from the Room of Requirement, and if Harry wouldn't leave him to his fate, neither will I.

Ginny was still reluctant, but the sound of Harry's name in the argument seemed to have softened her reluctance. "I'm not letting you go alone. If it's a trap, at least you'll have back up."

Hermione smiled. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

...x...x...x...

It was getting late; The sun would set in just a few hours and he needed to pack. Nervously, Draco retrieved a small trunk and began to fill it with things he would take with him. At the bottom of the trunk was his drawstring pouch full of galleons, along with a family photograph, and a silver watch his mother had bought for his sixteenth birthday. He packed a lot of regular clothes and a single traveling cloak, should the need for it arise.

Before he closed the trunk, he threw a few things on top of his clothes as an afterthought - trinkets that held sentimental value for him - and zipped it closed. He sat it next to his bedchamber door along with his Firebolt, which he refused to leave behind. He took a nervous breath and wiped his sweaty palms on his pants; He had concentrated all his energy on packing his things, but had given very little thought to how he would get out of the mansion. He didn't want to draw attention to himself, but it would be difficult to simply walk out the front door with his trunk and broomstick in hand.

Draco also decided it was best that he tell his mother and father he was leaving. At least that way things would not seem out of the ordinary when he did not show up for breakfast. If he waited until nighttime to slip out of the mansion unknowingly, the first thing his parents would do would be to send a search party after him. That he did not want. He at least needed time to get well into hiding before they started looking. If he told them he was going to spend a few days with a friend, it would at least explain his luggage and his broomstick and buy him a few days to get as far away from the mansion as he could.

He swept his gaze across his bedchamber; This was quite possibly the last time he would ever see it. If he managed to make it to Granger's he would be in hiding, and therefore could not return. If he was found out before he could leave, Voldemort would kill him. All things considered, it was a very bittersweet goodbye for Draco. He headed into the corridor timidly, rehearsing his alibi to himself.

As luck would have it, he ran into his mother on the way to the entrance hall.

"Where are you going, Draco?" she asked.

He took a deep breath, trying not to appear nervous. "I'm just going to stay a few days at a friend's house, mother."

"What friend?" she inquired tartly.

Draco hesitated. He couldn't say he would he at Blaise's house, because his family was always at Malfoy Manor. Crabbe had died at Hogwarts, and the Goyle's were still on speaking terms with Lucius.

Draco lowered his voice and cleared his throat nervously. "It's a _girl_ friend."

Narcissa blushed. "I see. Will you be bringing her by the mansion for us to meet her?"

He shrugged, bemused that his mother had taken the bait. "We'll see how these next few days go."

Then, he stooped to kiss his mother's cheek as he usually did.

"Do behave yourself, Draco," she warned before marching passed him.

Draco's heart was racing as he sped toward the door. He had no idea where that lie had come from, but his mother had obviously bought it. He was so close to being free he could taste it.

_'If I can just make it to the door without anyone seeing,'_ Draco thought to himself, trying to calm his nerves. _'Only a few more steps...'_

He rounded a corner and found himself in the entrance hall. The bodies from that morning had been cleared away, but Draco could still see them there. He felt a tug in his stomach and looked away.

The fresh air outside was such a relief to Draco that he took several deep breaths as though they were swigs of a calming tonic. He was so close now... All he had to do was make it to the end of the drive and he could disapparate. A surge of excitement coursed through him, causing him to quicken his step.

20 meters... 10 meters... 5 meters...

Draco turned to get a final look of his home, or what had once been his home, before he disapparated with a tiny 'pop'.

...x...x...x...

Draco's heart was racing.

The last rays of sunshine were fading, leaving the Forbidden Forest around him incredibly dark. He had not been waiting long, but the silence of the forest was suffocating and he was anxious. He had paced several times around the area, always coming back to where his trunk and broomstick waited beneath a fairly broad tree. He should have been more specific in his message to Granger; For all he knew, she could wait until the middle of the bloody night to come for him... if she came at all.

The thought had crossed Draco's mind that Granger would ignore his response and she would not come for him. He did not want to consider it a possibility, but he had thought about it. If she did not come, Draco would not return to the manor. He couldn't. He was not sure what he would do, but he would certainly not return home. That was out of the question. He would flee the country before returning to the manor.

As the sunlight disappeared and he was enveloped by almost complete darkness, Draco grew more anxious. He had never been afraid of the dark, but there was no telling what sort of creatures lurked here in the Forbidden Forest. He finally decided to take a seat with his belongings, his back pressed firmly against the trunk of the tree so that he could at least see 180 degrees of his surroundings and he could not be attacked from behind.

He waited. And he waited. The minutes dragged on sluggishly, but he did not lose hope. Granger was not the type of person to go back on her word, at least that's what he was hoping. In reality, he didn't know a damned thing about Granger apart from the fact that she was a bloody genius and a filthy mudblood. But then again, he didn't care about anything else.

The sudden shifting of underbrush startled him and his heart plummeted in his chest. He could not see anything.

"Malfoy!" a voice called.

Draco leaped to his feet and looked around eagerly.

"Granger?" he called, searching the dark forest for any sign of her figure. "Granger, where the bloody hell are you?"

As if out of thin air, two figures appeared. One of them was Granger, her bushy hair unmistakeable even in the darkness. The other was also female with light hair and a wiry frame. It was the Weasel girl.

"I thought I told you to come alone," Draco grumbled, glancing at Hermione's accomplice.

"You're lucky we came at all!" Ginny snapped angrily. "You should be thanking us."

Draco ignored her. "Can we just get out of here?"


	11. Kreacher

Not only did Draco Malfoy look entirely uncomfortable standing in the entryway of Grimmauld Place, he looked entirely out of place, more so than even Professor Snape had at the meetings of the Order. Ginny and Hermione led the way into the dining room, which was lit by several burning lanterns at the moment and Draco followed at a distance. As soon as his eyes adjusted to the light, he scrunched up his nose.

"It's nice to know neither one of you are decent house keepers," Draco scoffed. "This place is disgusting."

Ginny was about to fire a snappy retort when Hermione interjected, trying to keep the peace. "There used to be a house elf, but he hasn't shown up since we arrived."

Draco looked amused. "Potter had a house elf? Interesting..."

"Harry inherited him with the house," Ginny replied, losing her patience. "But it's none of your business."

"So this house belonged to Potter's parents?" Draco asked, enjoying their banter.

Hermione had to step in once again; She feared that Ginny would explode at any moment. "The house belonged to the Black family. And if we don't keep our voices down we're going to disturb the portrait of Mrs. Black and it's nearly impossible to get her quiet again."

"Black?" Draco mouthed, almost inaudibly.

"I'm going to show Malfoy around the house," Hermione said, motioning for the door. Her wand was drawn in front of her.

After a moment's hesitation, Draco followed. They made their way up the stairs, peering in on dusty bedrooms. "You can have your pick of the lot," Hermione assured him. "Our rooms are up another level and they're the only rooms up there."

Draco said nothing and they continued walking.

"So, that's it," Hermione said at the end of the tour. "If you leave, you have to apparate directly onto the doorstep like we did when we got here. Other than that, you can do whatever you want."

They stood awkwardly in the hallway for a long moment, neither one trusting themselves to speak.

"Do they know you're gone?" Hermione asked softly.

Draco shook his head slowly. "I told them I was going to stay at a friend's for a few days, but they'll figure it out soon enough."

Hermione bit her lip. "Did you bring any money?"

"Yes," he answered, his nose twitching. "Why does it matter?"

"How much?"

Draco's eyes narrowed. "Enough."

"Do you have your own vault at Gringotts, or do _mother_ and _father_ just give you handfuls whenever you want."

"I have my own vault," he answered shortly, wondering how this information could be used against him later. Why did Granger want to know in the first place, unless she was planning on robbing him?

"I think you should empty it," she said flatly.

"Why the bloody hell would I do that?" Draco seemed horrified.

"Because what do you think your parents are going to do when they find out you're gone. What do you think You-Know-Who will do? It will be impractical to go to Gringotts after they know what you've done. I say you go tomorrow and empty your vault before they have a chance to."

Draco's expression was hard, but it appeared that he was considering this.

"What the hell am I supposed to do with that much gold, Granger?" he asked, lowering his voice to a sinister whisper.

"I don't know," she answered. "But in exchange for sanctuary I expect you to contribute some."

He looked as though she had just slapped him across the face, his expression a mixture of anger and surprise. "Contribute? You expect me to pay rent, Granger?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, but I expect you to contribute to buying food and anything else we need."

Draco's jaw hardened. "And why would I do that?"

Hermione finally met his gaze and answered slowly, "Because if you don't, I'll wipe your memory until the only thing you remember how to do will be to suck your thumb while ballroom dancing."

"Nice threat, Granger," he smirked. "But I'm not afraid of you."

Hermione stood on her tiptoes, although she was still almost a head shorter than Draco and glared at him as fiercely as she could. "Maybe you should be."

She turned her back on him, leaving him in the middle of the hallway with his trunk and a look of utter confusion plastered on his face. He wasn't sure whether he should laugh or be angry; He decided on neither and chose a random room to settle into. He slammed the door, a little harder than he meant to, and a swirling cloud of dust erupted at his feet.

...x...x...x...

Hermione hardly believed it the next morning when Draco stumbled into the house, a lumpy knapsack tossed over his shoulder. He made his way into the dining room and dropped the bag onto the table, which sounded like a metallic avalanche.

"Where have you been?" Hermione stuttered, already knowing the answer.

"Gringotts," he said. "I emptied my vault... which wasn't easy mind you."

Hermione smirked. "You'll thank me later."

Draco scoffed. "Not likely."

Ignoring him, Hermione returned to making breakfast.

Draco took a seat at the table, stomach grumbling, but he refused to say anything. Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest and stared blankly across the room at a crooked shelf lined with pots. He was thinking about what he had just done - He now had every bit of gold he possessed with him, and although he felt considerably rich, he hated the idea.

A plate suddenly appeared in front of him, overflowing with a decently prepared breakfast. He looked up curiously and saw Hermione heading back to the stove. He thought about thanking her, or at least saying something, but thought better of it and began stuffing his face. As much as he hated to admit it, Hermione was not a terrible cook. But he would never tell her that.

Hermione took a seat at the table with her own plate, several chairs away from Draco, and ignored him as she ate. Ginny joined the crowd a few minutes later, lured by the tempting smell of food, and sat next to Hermione.

When he had finished eating, Draco disappeared up to his bedroom, carrying his knapsack over his shoulder as before. He had cleaned the room to the best of his ability, but it still felt grimy to him. With a shudder, he dropped the sack of galleons on the floor and plopped down on the bed. He sighed. What a pathetic day to day routine this would be: wake up, eat, maybe go outside, eat, talk about a plan to take down Voldemort, and go to sleep. Could he really take this? Was this really better than his life back at the mansion?

Draco closed his eyes. Maybe it wasn't so bad. At least he was safe, and no one would find him here. When the time came, he could leave and find a place of his own...

There was a knock at his door.

"Bloody hell," he grumbled. "Come in."

It was Hermione who peered her head in the doorway, watching him curiously. "I came to see if you needed help cleaning."

Draco's eyes flew open and he cut his eyes at her. "What makes you think I can't clean on my own."

She smirked and let herself into the room. "It's not a man's typical forte."

"Why do you even want to help, Granger?" he asked venomously.

Her expression wavered for a moment and she bit her lip; Draco had noticed in their short time together that it was something she did rather often.

"I just... Is it a crime for me to want to be nice?" Her voice cracked, but he pretended not to notice.

"It's just curious, Granger. You have no reason to be nice to me," he shrugged.

"Maybe it's because you saved my life."

Draco's chest fell. He had completely forgotten about their escape from the castle and how he had defended Granger from Bellatrix. He had saved Hermione Granger's life and now she was indebted to him.

"About that..." he started.

Hermione interrupted. "Malfoy, you could have turned me in. You could have killed me. I know you hate me, but I also know there's some good in you."

Draco was growing exceedingly uncomfortable. "Listen, Granger... I'd rather just forget about all that."

Hermione's gaze fell and she nodded slowly. "Sure, let's forget about the best of you. Do you want me to help or not?"

Draco's words seemed to catch in his throat, and he cleared it. "I did a basic spell but it still feels disgusting in here."

With a crooked smile, Hermione cleaned the room to the best of her ability. Draco simply watched, keeping his expression as stoic as possible, but he had to admit that the grimy layer over the room had disappeared and even the wallpaper appeared brighter, cleaner. Unsure of what to say, Hermione bowed her head when she had finished and turned to leave.

"Thanks," Draco spat before she could close the door behind her.

...x...x...x...

"WHICH ONE OF YOU TOOK IT?" Draco bellowed as he kicked his way into the dining room. Any good feeling he had gotten from that morning had been eradicated when he discovered his watch was missing.

"What are you talking about, Malfoy?" Ginny asked, her brow furrowed together. "Took what?"

Draco stormed across the dining room and stopped within a foot of Ginny. "My watch. Which one of you took it?"

"Did you even _look_ for it?"

He huffed. "You're wearing on my patience. Just tell me which one of you took it and it'll be a lot better for the both of you."

"Well, it wasn't me," Ginny said, narrowing her eyes.

"What's all this yelling about?" Hermione asked. She had just made her way through the doorway and was taken aback to see Ginny and Malfoy at each others' throats.

"The git is accusing us of stealing from him," Ginny spat.

"It was obviously one of you," Malfoy growled. "It didn't just disappear."

"What's missing?" Hermione asked, keeping her distance from Malfoy.

"My watch."

"Did you _look_ for it?" she asked.

"OF COURSE I BLOODY LOOKED FOR IT!" Draco exclaimed.

Hermione's eyes suddenly grew wide, but it was not because Malfoy had yelled at her. She had suddenly been struck with an insane idea.

"I think I know where your watch is," Hermione admitted.

"Well, I'm waiting," Draco huffed.

"Kreacher."

"Come again?" he asked.

Ginny seemed to have registered Hermione's thoughts and a smile broke out across her face. "The house elf! He's always stealing shiny things and hiding them."

"And the filthy thing's name is Kreacher?" Draco asked. "How fitting."

"But it's no use," Hermione sighed. "He won't come unless he's called and Harry's..."

Draco scoffed. "We'll see about that... KREACHER!"

Draco's voice seemed to shake the entire house, but it only took a second before a small figure appeared before them. Hermione's mouth fell open and Ginny's eyes grew wide. Draco himself was taken aback, as though he never thought his plan would actually work. But here it was, the grimy house elf of Grimmauld Place, standing before him.

"Yes, Master," Kreacher said with a low, sweeping bow.


	12. Involving Draco

"M-master?" Ginny fumbled. "But that would mean that... Grimmauld Place belongs to... Draco?"

Hermione's eyes were focused in concentration. "It makes sense. According to Wizarding law, if the predecessor dies without creating a will, an heirloom such as Grimmauld Place will pass to the ownership of the next male in the family line. Since Harry had no children, the house would have reverted back to the ownership of the Black family, but there are no males left. Bellatrix, Narcissa, and Andromeda were the last Black descendents, but since they are not males they are ineligible. Draco was the only son born to any of them."

Ginny and Draco stared in disbelief at Hermione who gave a small shrug. "Did no one else pay attention in History of Magic?"

"Apparently not, but we appreciate the lesson," Draco grumbled sarcastically. "Now, _elf_, did you take a watch from my room?"

"Which room, master?" Kreacher asked.

"Does it matter which room? You heard the mudblood, all the rooms are mine. Did you take a bloody watch or not?"

"Kreacher took a watch, but he was not aware that it was master's watch."

"Bring it to me," Draco snapped. "And there better not be a single scratch on the bloody thing."

Ginny and Draco watched Kreacher slip from the room to the hiding place where he hid all the nicknacks he collected. Hermione, however, was staring disgustingly at Draco.

"What the bloody hell are you looking at?"

"You could be a little nicer to him," she glared. "Kreacher has already been known to leak information to your Aunt Bellatrix when Sirius treated him awfully. What if Kreacher decided to let Aunt Bella know where you are?"

The color flooded from Draco face. "You're lying."

Hermione shook her head. "Kreacher had all the information about the Order of the Phoenix, which used this place as its headquarters, and when Bellatrix treated him kindly and asked him for information, he gave it to her. I don't care what you think of house elves, but if you don't want your own elf turning your over to You-Know-Who, you'd better be nicer to him."

Draco's mouth fell open and he fought for something to say. He wanted to tell Hermione off and tell her to shut her mouth. Or maybe, he would tell her to leave his house since it was _his_, after all. But he couldn't do that; It was Hermione who had saved him after all. Luckily, he was saved from having to say anything because Kreacher hobbled back into the room carrying Draco's watch carefully in his hands.

"Your watch, Master," he said and bowed low so that Draco had to stoop to snatch the watch from his hands.

Hermione looked at him expectantly and he narrowed his eyes.

"Erm... thank you," he said, looking at Hermione for approval. She nodded encouragingly.

"Kreacher wishes only to please his Master," the elf said obediently before bowing again and leaving the room.

"Was that so hard?" Hermione asked.

Draco rolled his eyes. "I'll be in my room."

Ginny waited until Draco was out of earshot before she said anything. "I've never had an extended conversation with him, but Draco really is a prat."

Hermione smiled. "There's a little good in him... you know, like a tiny, miniscule bit..."

...x...x...x...

There was a knock at the door.

"Go away!" Draco called, not even bothering to open his eyes.

"Draco, I need to talk to you."

"I said, go away!"

He cursed as he heard the door creak open. Hermione stepped into the room and eyed him curiously. "It's important," she said.

Draco groaned. "Everything is important to you. Go on, tell me, so I can get back to my nap."

Hermione scowled. "Ginny doesn't want me to tell you; She thinks you're going to run out on us. But I think once I've explained everything, you'll want to help."

"What are we doing?" Draco droned. "Picking out curtains for the downstairs bathroom? Honestly, I'd stay away from orange and yellow, but I think everything else is fair game."

She was less than amused. "This isn't funny, Draco. I need you to pay attention."

With a huff, Draco opened his eyes and swung himself up, hanging his feet off the side of the bed. "Well spit it out, Granger, if it's so damned important."

"We know how to defeat You-Know-You," she explained. "Dumbledore gave Harry instructions and we've been working on it for a year now."

"Well if Dumbledore knew how to defeat him, why didn't the old bat do it himself?"

"He didn't have time," Hermione said, shaking her head. "But that's not the point. The point is that we know how to defeat him now, or at least make him mortal again. So, will you listen?"

Draco pursed his lips, contemplating. "What do you mean make him _mortal_?"

Hermione smiled, knowing that Draco had taken the bait. "Can I sit down?" she asked. "It's a bit of a long story."

"If you must." He groaned, scooting over on the edge of the bed to make room for Hermione.

Hermione took a seat nervously next to Draco and folded her hands on her lap. "You-Know-Who was obsessed with becoming immortal, so he split his soul and hid the pieces in Horcruxes."

"Whore what?"

"Honestly..." she said, rolling her eyes. "HorCRUX. It's an extremely dark object into which one places a piece of their soul. That way, if the person dies, a piece of their soul still lives on. Are you following me?"

He furrowed his brow. "I think so. Continue."

"It's very difficult to destroy a Horcrux," she explained. "You have to destroy the object, whatever it might be, beyond magical repair. Things like basilisk venom and Fiendfyre can destroy them. Incidentally, your friend Crabbe helped up destroy one of them when he set the Room of Requirement on fire.

You-Know-Who made six horcruxes, and we've managed to destroy all but one."

"And if you destroy the last one, he'll die?" Draco asked.

"Not exactly. If we destroy the last one, then You-Know-Who can be killed. At the moment, if you hit him with a killing spell (assuming you got close enough and weren't killed first) you might kill the piece of the soul in him, but he'll still have a piece of his soul left in the final horcrux."

"Do you have any idea where the last horcrux is?"

Hermione nodded. "You know the giant snake he always has with him, Nagini? She's the last horcrux."

Draco's eyes bulged. "We have to kill the snake?"

She nodded again. "But there's more."

He groaned. "More? Like, it gets more complicated?"

"Exactly. Were you ever paying attention in History of Magic when Professor Binns talked about the Death Stick or the Stick of Destiny?"

"I probably wasn't paying attention that day. What's your point?"

Hermione huffed impatiently. "Basically, there is a wand in existence more powerful than any other wand ever created and guess who has it at the moment?"

"You-Know-Who?"

"Yes."

"Well bloody fucking hell," he sighed. "I guess I've settled for the losing side, haven't I?"

Hermione glowered at him. "Don't say that. You've picked the _right_ side, Draco. And we're going to kill him. We're going to avenge Harry's death, and everyone else who gave their lives fighting."

"That's great and noble and all, but you're all going to die," he smirked. "Good luck with your plans."

"We need your help, Draco," she pleaded. "The more people we have involved, the better our chances will be."

Draco shook his head persistently. "No offense, but I plan to stay as far away from You-Know-Who as possible. If you were smart, you'd do the same."

"Just think about it," she begged. "And if you really decide not to help us, I have one favor to ask."

"What favor?"

"Grimmauld Place is protected by the Fidelius Charm," she explained. "That means the only people who know the location can find it. There are a few others alive, like the Weasleys and Kingsley Shaklebolt who know the location, but I doubt they'll come here.

The favor I ask is that you continue to let us use this place as a hideout until You-Know-Who is destroyed."

Draco looked dumbfounded. "Yea, that's fine, I guess."

To his surprise, Hermione smiled and he felt the smallest sense of pleasure. "Thank you. I'll leave you alone now."

...x...x...x...

Draco lay awake in his bed some time later; He was staring up at the ceiling, thinking. His thoughts seemed to consume him, eating away at him from the inside like a parasite: It seemed that he would never stop owing Potter.

First, Harry saved his life in the Room of Requirement when he could have easily left him to the Fiendfyre and now, as a result of his death, Grimmauld Place was his. Harry's house was now his house. He cursed as an unfamiliar emotion overcame him, sweeping through him like a wave. Could he possible be feeling... grief?

For the first time in months it was not fear he was feeling, but sadness, loss, anguish. And this all for a boy who had never even been his friend. Try as he might to be angry with himself for feeling these things, he could not. He was in Potter's debt and until he repaid it, he would not know peace. Would finishing the work that Harry started, would defeating Voldemort possibly pay back that debt? And was he willing to take up the work that Harry had started? If he died trying then it would have been in vain that Potter saved him. But maybe Potter had saved him to do exactly that, try.

And then there was Granger. If it hadn't been for her, Draco would still be back at the Manor living under Voldemort's rule. His parents were still unaware of his deception, but they would soon learn and the bounty on his head would be as great as the one on Granger's. They were in this together, whether he wanted to be or not, and from the way she talked, she was not giving up on him.

Draco cursed and slammed a pillow over his face. His wished he had a Sleeping potion so he could go to sleep without having his mind overrun by these blasted thoughts.

...x...x...x...

It was nearly 3 o'clock in the morning when Hermione heard something crash downstairs. Her hand immediately shot to her wand on the nightstand.

"Ginny!" she whispered. "Ginny, there's someone downstairs."

However, Ginny continued to snore softly in her sleep.

Reluctantly, Hermione rushed across the room and opened the door. The hallway was dark, as well as the stairwell, but she could hear someone moving downstairs in the kitchen. She assumed it was Kreacher, but decided she had better check it out anyway. As quietly as she could, Hermione inched her way down the stairs, her wand outstretched in front of her. Her heart was thundering in her chest and she could hear it pounding in her ears. She thought about turning back to wake Draco, but she was already near the bottom of the stairs and turning back would waste too much time.

The kitchen door stood wide open and a dim light lit the room beyond. Quickening her pace, Hermione hurried to the doorway and paused, taking several deep breaths before peering around the corner. Something inside the room fell, clattering loudly to the floor, and almost making Hermione squeal.

"Fuck!" someone mumbled.

Hermione slowly peered through the doorway and saw a flash of blonde hair bending to pick up what had fallen.

"Draco-" Hermione said but she was cut off by a blinding flash of red light.

She jumped out of the way and the curse hit the door behind her.

"Bloody hell, sorry Granger. I'm a bit, erm, jumpy."

"What are you doing? Do you have any idea what time it is?" Hermione asked, approaching carefully as though another curse might fly her way at any moment.

"Late," he said. "I was hungry. But I've never had to make anything before and I can't even find a bloody knife."

"You could have called Kreacher," she suggested.

Draco shrugged. "Yeah, well the bloody toe rag is sleeping and I didn't feel like waking him up."

"So you woke me up instead," she forced a laugh. "How lovely. Let me help you."

"Go back to sleep, Granger. I don't need your help."

"Well, I can't sleep if you're making enough noise to wake the dead. I'm surprised you didn't wake the portrait of Mrs. Black."

"Mrs. Black?"

"There's a portrait who likes to scream about hating mudbloods and blood traitors down the hall," Hermione explained. "If you wake her up or disturb her, she'll scream."

"Ah," Draco said halfheartedly as he watched Hermione make him something to eat. He felt guilty about waking her and now having her make him dinner. His first thought should have been to call the house elf, but it honestly wasn't.

"Here you go," she said, pushing the plate across the table to him. "_Bon apetite._"

Draco cracked a smile. "Thanks."

Instead of heading back upstairs like he imagined she would do, Hermione got some bread and cheese for herself and sat across from him at the table.

"Aren't you tired?" he asked dryly.

"A bit," she admitted.

"You don't have to keep me company."

"I'm not. I'm eating bread."

Draco smirked and ate his own food.

"Can I ask you a question, Draco?"

"I'd assume you're going to whether I say you can or not."

"Very funny," she snapped. "When the snatchers took us to your house, why didn't you tell them it was Harry? You knew it was him."

Draco almost choked on his food and he took a quick swig of water. "I don't know. I guess... I didn't want it to be him."

She looked at him curiously. "What do you mean?"

He took a moment to think. "I mean, as long as he didn't get caught, it meant that there was hope for everyone else. They might be able to hide too and not get caught."

"That if you left, you'd have a chance," Hermione expanded.

Draco nodded slowly. "Yea. If my family and I somehow got out, escaped, we could stay on the run. If Potter, the most wanted person in the world, could do it for a year, I figured we could make it too. But my parents wouldn't leave; They were too afraid."

They sat in silence for another long while, even after Hermione had finished eating her bread and Draco was left picking at the scraps on his plate.

"Can I ask you a question, Granger?"

She nodded silently.

"Do you have a plan?

"Of course. Defeat You-Know-Who."

"Great plan," he smiled. "And how do you plan to do that?"


	13. Luna

Hermione woke early the next morning. Not to her surprise, Ginny was still in bed asleep. She had the Cloak of Invisibility pulled up to her chin, her eyes closed peacefully. Hermione smiled sympathetically. Whenever they were in their room, Ginny kept the Cloak close at hand; She slept with it every night and tucked it beneath her pillow during the day. They had all lost Harry, but Ginny had lost much more than that. Hermione knew better than anyone how much Harry had meant to her, and could only imagine the pain she was enduring. As she watched her friend silently, a thought struck her. She pulled out her beaded bag and reached in, withdrawing a handful of clothes. Harry's wrinkled shirt and pants were on top; She folded them neatly and placed them on the bedside table before heading downstairs.

The kitchen was already warm and smelled like breakfast, which made her stomach growl. Draco was sitting at the dining table over a freshly prepared plate while Kreacher continued to stir a pot on the stove.

"Good morning," she said tentatively as she took a seat across from Draco.

"Morning," he grumbled.

"Good morning, Kreacher."

Kreacher looked skeptically over his shoulder and upon seeing Hermione's familiar face he greeted her. He fixed her a plate and pushed it onto the table in front of her.

"How did you sleep?"

Draco narrowed his eyes at her. "You don't have to make small talk, Granger, or acknowledge me every time you see me."

She huffed. "Well, excuse me for being polite."

"If you're still just trying to make it up to me for saving your life, consider your debt paid."

"That's not the only reason," she said softly. "Since we're on the same side now, we can at least be civil, don't you think?"

Draco raised his brow. "We're eating at the same table. Isn't that civil enough?"

Hermione shook her head and sighed. "Forget I said anything."

They ate in silence for a while, Hermione wondering why she even tried to be nice to him. He had promised to let them continue to use Grimmauld Place as a safe house, but if they made him mad enough he could through them out. Perhaps she should just ignore him unless absolutely necessary; That way she wouldn't have to deal with his attitude, and she wouldn't waste her energy.

But something drove her to want to talk to him; She wanted to prove that there was good in him. Albeit a small bit, she had seen it now on several occasions. Maybe if she could prove his 'goodness' to him, Draco would come around and be willing to help them with their plans.

"What are you looking at?" he asked shortly.

Hermione had just realized she was staring at him over her plate. She blinked several times and let her gaze fall to the table.

"Nothing in particular," she assured him. "I was just thinking."

"About?"

"About how we're supposed to get close enough to the snake to kill it," she lied. "Who knows where You-Know-Who could be?"

Draco's gaze darkened. "I do. He's at Malfoy Manor."

Hermione's heart leaped in her chest. "Draco, you could kill it! You could go home, get close enough to it, and..."

"There's only one problem, _Granger_," he said. "What am I supposed to kill it with?"

The excitement that had been overtaking Hermione suddenly fizzled and she sighed. "I think our only chance is to find the Sword of Gryffindor unless you want to burn your entire mansion down with Fiendfyre."

Neither of them said anything.

"How about you just leave me out of your plans for now," Draco suggested. "I'll help if I can, but I'm not eager to be a part of some suicide mission."

"If we had the sword I would go there myself," she said, mainly to herself.

"That'll go over well," he assured her, an evil gleam in his eye. "The most famous mudblood in the country just walks up to the Dark Lord without him realizing it and kills his pet. Even if you _did_ kill the snake, he would kill you."

"At least someone else would be able to kill him. I make him mortal, he kills me, and then someone else kills him."

"So you _do_ have a death wish," he spat.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "My plan isn't to die, but if it comes to that, I guess I have no other option. Harry died for the cause, along with countless others. I would just be one of them."

Draco scoffed. "The _cause._"

Hermione's jaw hardened and she pushed herself away from the table. She glared at Draco for a moment, wondering if there really was any good in him or if everything he did was out of self-preservation.

"I need a map," she snapped. "Of Malfoy Manor. Every entrance, every room... as much detail as you can give me."

And with that, she spun on her heal and marched across the room.

"Wait... why do you need a map? Where are you going?"

"To send more patronuses."

...x...x...x...

Hermione sent out a handful of patronuses, each with the same message as before: Sanctuary at Harry's. She was desperate to hear from the others, any of them. She knew the Weasley's were safe, but she wanted to hear from them personally, wanted to hear their voices. Bill, George, and Fleur were in France, so it was unlikely her patronus would find them there, but there was still Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Ron and Percy. In the event that her patronus found Luna, Seamus, or Dean, they would not know where to find Harry's house (or Draco's house) but they could at least send word that they were safe.

Days passed but there was no news. Hermione was growing restless inside Grimmauld Place and she longed to go somewhere, anywhere, even if it was only for a little while. She entertained herself by cleaning or making endless lists of ideas, which grew more dramatic and more impossible over time. Draco kept mostly to himself except during mealtimes. Whenever they were in the same room, Hermione continued to attempt conversation with him, but more often than not she got too aggravated to continue; Draco seemed to enjoy aggravating her.

It was late one afternoon and Hermione and Ginny were in their room playing a game of exploding snap. They didn't enjoy it nearly as much as Harry and Ron had, but it passed the time and kept them entertained. A knock at their door startled them, and after exchanging looks, Hermione crossed the room to open it. Of course, it was Draco.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"No. But I can help you," he said, sounding bored. "I have something to show you."

Hermione glanced over her shoulder to see Ginny nodding encouragingly. With a sigh she followed Draco into the hallway and they headed to his room.

"Unless you've found the sword, I doubt you can help me."

He snorted. "You underestimate me, then."

Draco pushed open his door and took a seat on his bed, wrenching open the drawer in the bedside table and pulling out a stack of parchment.

"What is that?" Hermione asked, approaching him slowly.

"It's your bloody map," he said, holding out the parchment to her.

Hermione took them skeptically and scanned over them. There were three sheets of parchment, each with a detailed map of one floor of the manor, and they were surprisingly detailed. He had labeled each of the rooms, and even drawn some of the furniture in some of them.

"You did all this?" she asked in disbelief, her eyes still poring over the map.

"I'm no artist, but that should be everything you need," he said.

Hermione looked up and met his eyes. She remembered vaguely snapping at him about needing a map earlier that week, but she had hardly believed he would come through. He was watching her curiously, waiting for her to say something, but she was at a loss.

"Draco, I don't know what to say," she stammered.

"A 'thank you' would suffice," he said.

"Th-thank you."

"I don't know what you're planning, and I'm not sure I want to, but try not to get yourself killed," he snapped.

She shook her head. "I don't plan to do anything until I have the sword, or something else to kill it with."

"Good luck with that," he said before falling back onto his pillow and tucking his hands beneath his head.

"You know," Hermione said as she started toward the door, "you could at least _act_ like you care."

"I don't care," he corrected.

Hermione waved the parchment around like it was Exhibit A. "I think you do, if only slightly."

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Well, I think you're wrong. Why would I possibly care about what happens to a mudblood and her blood-traitor friend?"

"Because we're all you've got now," she snapped. "And even if you can live without friends, you can't live without gloating to someone."

Draco opened his mouth, but Hermione was already out of the room. He thought about following her for the sole purpose of letting her know how wrong she was, but something held him back. Perhaps she wasn't wrong; Without Hermione and Ginny, however annoying they were, he would be stuck alone with the disgusting house elf. He huffed and crossed his arms over his chest furiously. How had he become so dependent on the filthy mudblood?

...x...x...x...

Luna's response was both a relief and a surprise to the inhabitants of Grimmauld Place. It was late when Hermione finally crawled into bed that night; She had taken to reading some old books she had found in an upstairs closet and had been reluctant to pry herself out of the armchair in the sitting room.

"You haven't been with Draco all this time, have you?" Ginny asked curiously as Hermione pulled the blanket up to her chest.

Hermione snorted. "No. I was reading downstairs."

"Find anything interesting?"

"No. Just a bunch of outdated spells," she sighed.

Ginny was quiet for a long while. "We need to do something. I feel so helpless just sitting around here waiting to hear from the others."

"I know, Ginny. I feel the same way. But what are we supposed to do? Until we find the sword..."

"About that," Ginny interrupted. "I've been thinking. Couldn't we just make another sword?"

Hermione propped her head up on her hand and gazed across the dimly lit room. "What do you mean?"

"Well, the Sword of Gryffindor is goblin-made and when Harry killed the basilisk, it took in the venom. What if we had another sword and more venom?"

Hermione forced a smile. "Finding a goblin-made sword would be hard enough, but _basilisk venom_? It's certainly not legal to have, and what about finding it?"

"Well, isn't it certainly convenient that we're sharing a house with a rich, former death eater who could probably get one of the two for us?" Ginny asked, sounding amused. "I'm sure there's got to be a place in Knockturn Alley that would sell a goblin-made sword. And aren't there still fangs of the basilisk left in the Chamber of Secrets?"

Hermione said nothing. She was thinking about everything Ginny had just said. Technically it was _possible_ to impregnate another sword, but the likelihood was slim to none. However, it was more of a plan than they had at the moment, and Hermione was reaching desperation.

"It's possible," she said, more to appease Ginny than anything. "But if Draco won't help us, what do we do."

"Simple. Make a Polyjuice Potion and take one of his hairs."

"You really have given this a lot of thought, haven't you?"

Ginny smiled and was about to answer, but a sudden burst of brilliant light made her hold her tongue. A patronus had just burst through the wall and landed in the middle of the room; It was a rabbit.

"Luna!" Hermione gasped.

The rabbit blinked once before opening its mouth. "Where is Harry's house? I didn't know he had a house... I would have gone, but it's kind of hard to get somewhere when you don't know where somewhere is. I hope everyone is alright."

Hermione and Ginny burst into a fit of giggles. Leave it to Luna to lighten the mood.

"I'm glad she's safe, but I wonder where she is," Ginny smiled.

"There's only one way to find out," Hermione smiled and withdrew her wand.


End file.
